AzuTrek: The Next Generation
by Incanto
Summary: Enough said? UPDATED: Now with plot
1. Teaser

Author's Note: _I get the sneaking feeling I can't possibly be the first to have tried this; my apologies if that's the case. Apologies are also due to X to the Zoltan, who of course set the bar for epic stories involving AzuDai and space. I wouldn't call this a crossover, since while I'm using the Star Trek races and such (I mean hey, why reinvent the wheel), all characters are either from AzuDai or OC. You shouldn't need to know much about Star Trek beyond the broadest clichés to enjoy this. I mean, I had forgotten everything I knew about Trek before I discovered the old episodes on YouTube a few weeks back...Incanto out_

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On an ordinary, pleasant spring day in the city of Tokyo, Earth, a girl with two chestnut-colored pigtails, wearing the primary school uniform common to that era and geographic region, stood at a railroad crossing. A chime sounded and the metal hazard bars, striped like a Terran wasp, lowered on either side of the tracks. Strangely, far from seeming annoyed at the inconvenience, the girl stood smiling as a gentle breeze played around her.

Just then a second, taller girl, her dark hair curling at the edges, came and stood on her right.

"Oh," chirped the pigtailed girl, apparently for her own benefit, "it's Miss Tomo Takino, my classmate at the ordinary high school I attend! How are you, Miss Takino?"

"What's up, Chiyo-chan?"

"I'm waiting here for the electric-powered train to pass! Such hazards are common to Japanese schoolgirls of our era, because we actually walk between our school and place of residence."

"I hear that." Lacing her hands behind her head, the girl named Tomo adopted a world-weary expression. "Don't get why we can't Transport and be there in, like, three milliseconds."

Chiyo coughed.

"Because transporter Technology hasn't been invented, Miss Takino. That would be like something out of a 'science-fiction' anime."

And she gave a rather hollow laugh.

"Oh right," said Tomo, and coughed.

"Besides," Chiyo went on, raising her voice as the train rattled past, "if not for this walk, we'd miss out on this fascinating Terran flora and fauna. Like mosquitoes and…ragweed."

"This—I mean, _our_ era is pretty crazy, huh? We got blood-sucking bugs flying around and everyth—ow! Damnit, there's another one!"

Hoping to change the subject Chiyo put in: "I see you have your pencil board, Miss Takino, just like any ordinary high school girl."

Wiping mosquito debris on her skirt, Tomo brightened. "Oh, yeah!" She proudly held up the pencil board with strange, stylized illustrations of human figures. "And check this out!"

She removed a small rectangular device from one pocket. Hanging from one corner, suspended on a red string, was a representation of a Terran cat with an overlarge head. Chiyo's eyes widened.

"A cellular phone strap! That's how ordinary high school girls like us express our individuality."

"Pretty cool, huh? I guess this makes me more individual than you, Chiyo-chan. Ha!"

Then just as the hazard bars were rising, clearing the way, a voice hailed them from across the tracks.

"Yo-yo, me homies!"

Chiyo blinked.

Before them stood a tall, elegant girl with flowing hair; and beside her a girl, who had spoken, wearing large sunglasses, the garment known as a "track suit" in flaming red, and a gold pendant the size of a fist stamped with two Japanese characters: _Oo-saka._

Tomo hailed them looking unsurprised:

"Hey, Osaka, what's up?"

"Check it, I is here wit' my main girl Miss Sakaki, who is well tall and stacked like a Terran milk cow!"

Miss Sakaki, so named, blushed.

"Miss Kasuga..." Chiyo began with difficulty. "Why are you...dressed like that?"

All at once Miss Kasuga's expression changed, and she spoke in an ordinary, if oddly stilted voice:

"My apologies, Miss Mihama. I was merely studying the work of twentieth-century anthropologist Ali G. It seemed appropriate to the time period."

"But Miss Kasuga," said Chiyo gently, "this is the Daily Lives of High School Girls program. We agreed to model ourselves on characters from documentaries like School Rumble, Ouran Host Club and Lucky Star."

Although it was difficult to tell behind her shades, Miss Kasuga looked downcast.

"I regret that I have spoiled the program, Miss Mihama. It seems I have yet to master the nuances of human culture."

"Don't worry, I'm sure you'll…"

But just as Chiyo reached out to reassure her, a voice rang seemingly out of nowhere.

"Ca-aptain. Bridge to Captain, report."

Tomo stood idly, twirling her thumbs.

The voice came again more insistently: "Captain Tak-in-o. I'm talking to you, Tomo, there is no other Captain on this ship."

With a sigh, Tomo tapped her left breast.

"Takino here. I thought you meant that Ensign named John Captain."

"_There is no such Ensign!_"

"Jeez, Number One, no need to get bent out of shape. What is it _this_ time?"

The disembodied voice regained its composure.

"Heh-hem. Sorry to interrupt play time, but the Romulan ambassador is hailing us. Should I tell him you're indisposed—or would you prefer to _avoid_ an interstellar incident?"

Tomo gave another, more profound sigh.

"Patch it through to my Ready Room, I'll be there."

"See that you are. Bridge out."

For a moment, there was no sound on that pleasant spring day but the faint whirr of insects. Then Tomo spoke reluctantly: "Computer, end program and save." And as the scenery folded into a stark, cramped room with a grid-like pattern across the walls, she addressed the three girls—who, a certain trick of perspective lost, now more resembled grown women—who remained with her: "Too bad huh, you guys; I guess we'll pick this up later? And Lt.-Commander Kasuga…"

"Yes, Captain?"

"Report to the bridge in that outfit."

"Aye, Cap'n. Respec'!"

And as Lt.-Commander Kasuga passed by her with a guileless smile, Captain Tomo Takino muttered to herself:

"If that doesn't push ol' Number One over the edge, nothing will…"

* * *

**AzuTrek: The Next Generation**

**by Incanto**

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**

_Captain's Log, Tomo Takino, Stardate XXX-OOO_

_So yeah, like, who even reads these Captain's logs. But I'm gonna assume it's someone who doesn't know Jack about the future, maybe like a time traveler. So a little history lesson is in order. Not that I know Jack about history, so I asked my First Officer to fill me in. _

_So I guess earth used to have "countries" that were always at war with each other? By the year 2100, we decided that was stupid so we all joined something called the Federation, because that sounded nice and democratic; not like, you know, the Empire. Trouble was, white guys with good hair still ran everything. So they tried having a bald guy as Federation President; then a black guy; then finally a white chick. The Ministry of Political Correctness was still whining. So we agreed that the new World-Cultural Paradigm would belong to whichever country developed space travel and made contact with an alien civilization. That was dumb, because Japan did that two weeks later. Nobody else was, like, even close. So we're in space now, and everything is Japanese._

_Some of the old guys said it was like a "twenty-first century nerd's wet dream," but nobody else knew what they were talking about._

_Anyway...that was two hundred years ago; so really who cares. These are the voyages of the J.F.S (that's Japanese Federation Starship) Sakamoto Ryouma.* Its mission: to seek out new life and blah blah blah, okay you know what, screw this. I'll have my First Officer make these logs from now on._

_She says she'll do it, but she refuses to hum our ship's theme song at the end of each entry. So I'll do that part myself. Here goes:_

_Doo, doo-doo-doo, doo-doo-doo…_

_Dee-dee-dee-dee dee-dee-dee, dee-dee-dee…da-dum!_

* Footnote: The Ministry of Political Correctness forbids the following as starship names: Anything from Greek mythology, former U.S. Presidents, and anyone like Einstein or Gandhi that most people living in America circa 1990 would know about.


	2. Yomi's Day: Introducing the Crew

Note: I don't think Kaorin has a canonical family name. In my last story ("The Breaking Waves") I had her as "Sakamoto;" but with the starship named after Sakamoto Ryouma, a hero of the Meiji restoration, I'm changing it to Fukuda. Make it so, Incanto out

* * *

_First Officer's Log, Koyomi Mizuhara, Stardate XXX-OOO_

_The Ryouma is currently en route to mediate a border dispute between my home world of Vulcan and the Romulan Empire. Estimated time of arrival at Warp Seven is in two days, seven hours. This gives me time to advance my personal duties aboard this ship: that is, gathering evidence against that idiot Tomo so Fleet Admiral Kimura will relieve her of command. You might call that insubordination. I prefer to think of it as "proactive career planning." My initial goal was to cite fifty protocol violations; we've been out of dock for a week, and I've recorded one hundred and seventeen. It seems too soon to bring this matter to the Fleet Admiral's attention, so I'm holding out for five hundred. After all, it would look bad if he admitted his mistake so soon after giving the Wildcat of Starfleet Academy captaincy of the Japanese Federation's flagship._

_The rest of the crew assigned to the Ryouma exhibits a much higher level of competence. There is, of course, her first officer, with her faultless service record and five years' experience as the Ryouma's Operations Chief, who graduated the Academy second in her class. Behind Tomo Takino._

_My former role as Operations Chief has been assumed by Lt.-Commander Ayumu Kasuga, something of an oddity. As all are doubtless aware, Starfleet has been deploying sophisticated androids in administrative functions for the past decade. It seems that Lt.-Commander Kasuga was, to put it delicately, the protocol model of the current wave. As such, while her abilities are literally superhuman, a number of…bugs remain in her social protocol, that Captain Takino was quick to take advantage of. First she programmed the Lt.-Commander to speak in an antiquated dialect from the earth city of Osaka, a dialect no one except for stand-up comedians has used in eight hundred years—but that wasn't the end of it. In fact, when I ran into her this morning…_

"Commander Mizuhara! I am in need of assistance!"

Commander Koyomi Mizuhara, rushing down the corridor with a briefing under one arm, found Lt.-Commander Ayumu "Osaka" Kasuga planted in front of her. The Lt.-Commander's face, with its big, limpid eyes, faced her. The rest of her body did not.

"Ever since I awoke from my five-hour maintenance cycle, my locomotive algorithm seems to be stuck, so to speak, in reverse. When I mean to move forward, I move backward, and when I mean to turn left I turn right. Furthermore…"

"Lt.-Commander," said Yomi in a slow, controlled voice, "I want you to touch your nose with your left forefinger."

Osaka's right hand probed futilely at the back of her head for several moments.

"Yeah," she said, "that's the other thing."

"Think carefully. Is it possible that while you were inoperative during your maintenance cycle, someone screwed your head on backwards?"

Osaka's eyes went blank—blanker, that was, than usual—as she computed.

"There is an eighty-seven point nine percent probability of that scenario."

Yomi no longer sighed. Rather, her severe features became a touch more severe. She tapped her communicator.

"Mizuhara to Captain, come in."

"Mizuhara to Captain," answered a voice, "come in."

"Damnit, Tomo, I'm not going to fall for that 'communicator malfunction' gag twice."

"Damnit, Tomo, I'm not going to—"

"_I said quit messing with me!_ Now tell me if you know anything about the current orientation of Lt.-Commander Kasuga's head."

Manic laughter filtered from the communicator.

"Oh man, Number One, you beat me to it! _I _wanted to tell her April Fool's!"

"Tomo," said Yomi, her voice sinking to a hiss, "the idea is to fool people _on_ April Fool's day. And we are currently fourteen lightyears from Earth's sun; we're not on some kind of Gregorian calendar."

"Huh?"

"Let me explain this carefully. There is no continuity of years, months and weeks in space. That's why we have Stardates."

"But we can still, like, measure a twenty-four hour cycle by the ship's internal clock, right?"

"Yes."

"So what you're saying is…April can be any time we say it is."

"Well yes."

"Then you're relieved of command, Miss Mizuhara, report to the brig."

"What—!"

"_April Fool's!_ Ha, ha! Today's April first, captain's orders. Now if you'll excuse me I got a busy day to plan…"

"You'd be better be preparing for the _extremely volatile _negations we're heading into! Mizuhara out."

Osaka had assumed her usual placid, cheerful expression.

"I see. Captain Takino has played a 'prank' on me. Human use pranks to express affection. She certainly is an energetic commander."

"Yeah, something like that.—Now walk backwards to Engineering and get Lt. Mihama to fix your head." And as the android moved off, causing other crew members to leap back in alarm, Yomi muttered: "If only someone _could_ screw her head on straight."

_Our Chief Engineer is Lieutenant Mihama, a whiz kid who made Lt., Junior Grade right out of the Academy. According to her record the brat's only nineteen year old. To be fair, she does have a measured I.Q. of over two hundred, and it didn't hurt that her father is the fifth-richest man on Earth and basically owns the shipyards where the Ryouma was built. But if she can translate her technical skills under pressure, she'll make a fine officer. In fact, I may see eye-to-eye with her on a number of issues…_

"Commander Mizuhara? I'm sorry to bother you…"

Yomi glanced up from her computer terminal, and quickly tried to rub away the dark marks under her eyes. She only succeeded in making them worse.

"Miss Mihama! No bother. What can I help you with?"

"I know you must be busy preparing for the negotiations, but I have a few questions…that may be vital to our mission."

Regarding her, Yomi said carefully:

"If they're so vital, why not bring them to Captain Takino herself?"

"The questions," Chiyo said just as carefully, "are about Captain Takino."

Yomi gave a faint smile. In a silky voice she went on:

"Sit down, Miss Mihama. Can I get you anything? Computer—tea, sencha."

"Oh, no, that's alright," said Chiyo, but allowed herself to be installed on the cushioned sofa, the tea and an assortment of biscuits placed on the table in front of her. Yomi returned to her desk.

"Now," she said, regarding Chiyo over her interlaced hands, "your concerns…"

"Oh, not concerns! I just wanted to ask you about the Captain. You attended Starfleet Academy together, isn't that correct?"

"That is…yes. Yes we did."

Chiyo ate and drank with great delicacy, that took nothing away from the politeness of her speech. As always, it was impossible to tell if the brat was putting you on.

"I understand," she said, "that Captain Takino graduated first in your class."

"That's…correct."

"But her service record since has been, well…erratic, to say the least. While your own, Commander Mizuhara, has been…"

"Exemplary," Yomi provided, firmly, when Chiyo hesitated. "Yes. That's correct." Kneading her forehead she continued: "Miss Mihama—may I call you Chiyo?—let me explain something. Captain Takino placed first in our class because she cheated on her final exams."

"Cheated—!" Chiyo blushed like a grade schooler hearing a vulgar remark. "But in that case, surely…!"

"The Proctors knew all about it," said Yomi, leaning back. A dark mist seemed to descend over her eyes. "The thing is…you are familiar, I trust, with the career of Captain James T. K—"

And an inexplicable, high-pitched buzzing noise obscured her last word.

"Whose name," she finished, wincing, "is so renown that our comm system automatically censors it so it won't get used disrespectfully."

"Of course! He was probably the greatest captain in Starfleet history."

"That's right. You know that he cheated on his exams. Well, Starfleet is always hoping for a repeat of Captain K—. So now whenever they get a 'think-outside-the-box' maverick, they give them the highest command available, and either they succeed brilliantly or they get themselves killed."

"Then Fleet Admiral Kimura is hoping Captain Takino will be the next James T. K—?"

"Precisely. That's also why they assigned her a Vulcan first officer."

"Yourself…Commander Mizuhara?"

"None other."

Chiyo said in the most maddeningly inscrutable tone: "I see."

Yomi leaned closer. "Chiyo—may I call you Chiyo-chan?—I said that officers like Takino end up either brilliant or dead. If Takino ends up dead…that may have a detrimental effect on your health and mine. We should do our best to make sure that doesn't happen. Understand?"

With great sincerity Chiyo nodded and said: "I understand."

And sipped her tea.

_I enjoyed my chat with Lt. Mihama, but between one thing and another I fell behind in my preparation for the negotiations and had to work through dinner. By eighteen-hundred hours, my blood pressure was reaching dangerous levels and Ensign Fukuda suggested I visit sick bay. I comprised and went to see our ship's counselor, the half-betazoid who prefers to go by Miss Sakaki. Not that I mentioned my plan to Ensign Fukuda, who gets weirdly defensive where our ship's counselor is concerned._

_Miss Sakaki is a woman of few words, but "serene" is certainly the first word that comes to mind to describe her. Ensign Fukuda isn't her only fan among the crew._

The office of Miss Sakaki, ship's counselor, was decorated in a tasteful deep purple that reminded one, inexorably, of the bedroom of a young girl. But no one could mistake the very womanly half-betazoid for a child. She sat demurely in a Terran-style armchair while Yomi reclined on the sofa. The Commander had been speaking, uninterrupted, for over ten minutes; and she was finally touching on a different theme than her animosity toward a certain fellow officer.

"…I just feel like all the responsibility for these negotiations rests on _my_ shoulders. Why, just because I'm Vulcan? I was raised on Earth; I spent my whole life around humans, and one especially _human_ human…I don't know more about Vulcan culture than—probably than you, Miss Sakaki. It just reminds me that I never fit in all my life, and now I'm going 'home,' but they won't know me there either. But you probably know what that feels like."

Miss Sakaki gave an imperceptible nod.

She rose, and fluidly crossed the room to a shelf laden with over two dozen stuffed animals—Terran dogs and dolphins, lesser Romulan tiger-wolves, Telarain K'ghtah. Entering, Yomi had remarked this and assumed they were for the benefit of children.

Miss Sakaki took down a nearly unrecognizable white Terran cat, of a squat construction, and with a second, smaller cat affixed to its bulbous head. She placed it on the table by the sofa.

"What is this?"

"Neko-koneko," said Miss Sakaki.

"Well…I recognize an ancient Earth mascot character. But…what _is_ it?"

"Neko-koneko," repeated Miss Sakaki.

Keeping her gentle eyes on Yomi, she reached out, as if demonstrating something, and stroked the doll.

Yomi reached out and placed one finger on it. Miss Sakaki nodded. The Commander kneaded Neko-Koneko's fabric flesh for a minute, looking thoughtful.

"Well," she finally said, "I'll be damned, I feel better."

"I can sense that you do. Come back if you have any more concerns. Please, don't push yourself too hard."

Rising, Yomi allowed herself a quiet sigh.

"Thank you, counselor."

_I did feel better, but I knew what I really needed—that Terran folk medicine called a "gin and tonic." So I headed to the lounge in Ten-Forward to get myself sorted out._

_However, after my third dose, I had the misfortune of encountering our Chief Tactical and Security Officer, Lt. Kagura. Now from what I can tell, Miss Kagura is an officer of great ability and integrity. She is half-Klingon, the only officer with Klingon blood currently serving on any Federation starship. Amateur sociologists speculate that Klingon fathers pass on the racial traits of reticence, pride and what might be called "gruffness;" while Klingon mothers pass on the traits of stubbornness, hotheadedness and a competitive nature. _

_Lt. Kagura's mother is Klingon._

"Oi, Commander! I spy three empty glasses. Maybe you aren't as spineless as the rest of the humans onboard, ha, ha!"

"Lieutenant…Lt. Kagura," managed Yomi, who had been leaning heavily on the white glass table with one hand on the bridge of her nose. "Good to see you. I trust everything on the ship is…secure and whatnot?"

"Ha!" Kagura pounded her chest. "As if any of these cowards could stir up trouble. But rest assured, Commander—I mean, I hope your little negotiations succeed and all. But if the Romulans want a fight, we'll give 'em a fight. Am I right? Eh?"

"Nobody's…fighting anybody. Let's just…be peaceful cultural ambassadors and…listen to everyone."

"Wha-at?" Falling into the seat opposite her, Kagura gaped. "Is this what liquor does to you? Makes you even more of a sheep? Where is the fire in your blood? Bartender! Romulan ale, hot!"

Yomi raised one hand to refuse—but the gesture was halfhearted, and Kagura took no notice. The bottle, full of frothing green liquid, being delivered, the Lieutenant eagerly poured out two glasses.

"The Romulans may be sneaks," she said, "but they brew a good, strong ale. Drink up!"

And she took her own advice. Momentarily she had to pour herself another glass.

For all her aggressiveness, there was a certain girlish candor in the way Kagura spoke. Now, quite without invitation, she began unloading her own troubles:

"Did you hear Captain Takino's report that there were Romulan spies onboard? She got my security team fighting each other like dogs. Turns out it was some Earth custom called 'April Fool's day.' But I got to give her credit, she's keeping us on our toes. There's a commanding officer for you!"

"She certainly is…something," Yomi offered.

"To Captain Takino of the Ryouma, the finest ship in commission!" bellowed Kagura—cheers from around the lounge—and finally, the toast was accepted by Commander Mizuhara.

When it took her more than one swallow to drain the glass, Kagura tapped her shoulder.

"Let me tell you something. The Romulans are like the Klingons in this: they respect strength. If you aren't strong, how can you gain their respect? Commander Mizuhara! I challenge you to a contest—a drinking contest!"

Yomi's eyes took some time to focus on her interlocutor. When they did, in spite of their blurriness, there was a certain strength there—even frightening in its intensity. Kagura looked impressed.

Yomi struck her glass on the table, spattering her arm with droplets of Romulan ale.

"Alright! Bring it on!"

Kagura burst out laughing.

"Bartender, two more bottles!"

The other patrons were quick to cluster around. Bets were placed. Few of them favored Yomi. But in the early stages of the contest, one would be hard pressed to distinguish between the grim determination of the contestants.

Outside, the black void of space continued to swirl.

_Chief Medical Officer's Log, Stardate XXX-OOO_

_Commander Koyomi Mizuhara was admitted to sick bay late last night at twenty-three hundred hours with an acute case of alcohol poisoning._

_I don't know why I call anything "acute" anymore when I can fix everything short of some alien virus or heart failure with a hypospray. But once the danger of liver failure was averted, Commander Mizuhara continued to retch for several hours. She was paid a visit by Captain Takino, who shook her head sadly and made skeptical remarks about the Commander's future in Starfleet._

_While she was unconscious, the Commander muttered repeated threats against some individual who was "a chain around her neck" and had "hounded her ever since birth," who "must die" before she could ever be happy. When she finally recovered, she had no memory of these statements; so I consider them nothing more than intoxicated delirium._

_While Lt. Kagura strained a shoulder muscle carrying the Commander all the way to sick bay, she otherwise seemed in perfect health._

_While there were several minor injuries resulting from the Captain's spontaneous announcement of April Fool's Day, there are no further serious cases to record. I wish Commander Mizuhara a speedy recovery anticipating the Vulcan/Romulan negotiations as, I'm sure, do all hands onboard. I am not alone in my admiration for the Commander's sense of duty, and her commitment to our welfare. _


	3. Reflective Surface X2

Note: _Yep, we're still with Yomi, and you can expect a lot more of her. Maybe I feel bad for giving her such a limited role in _The Breaking Waves_. Make it so, Incanto out_

* * *

Commander Koyomi Mizuhara had not consumed so much Romulan Ale since her academy days, during all that peaceful, yet too brief separation from Tomo Takino. She found it unsurprising, therefore, when she woke up in full uniform with a throbbing headache. Staggering across her darkened quarters, she made out the familiar outline of the replicator.

"Computer, Clamato, a shot of Terran whisky and a raw egg."

"One Hair of The Dog, acknowledged."

The room was briefly lit as the drink materialized. Only when she had got down a few swallows, and the nausea subsided, did she add: "Lights."

What followed was less familiar.

The lighting itself was far dimmer than she remembered. She dismissed it as a trick of her groggy vision; but glancing around, the details of the room failed to settle comfortably in her mind. The furniture looked so—Spartan, that was the word. Less upholstery, more brushed metal than before. The bed had a single steel bar for a headboard. Then turning, she was confronted with a menacing, if tastefully arranged, selection of bladed weapons decorating the wall. She recognized a Telathian sacrificial knife.

"Computer, my current location please."

"You are currently in the Captain's quarters."

_Tomo_. That explained it. Had they dragged her here when she passed out? Dreading the onset of some elaborate prank, she resolved not to play along. But then again. While she had never been in the Captain's quarters, and had never cared to angle for an invitation, this seemed so…unlike Tomo. Not that she knew what hobbies her old rival had picked up since their academy days.

"Computer, give me the location of the closest senior officer."

"Special Operative Ayumu Kasuga is in her quarters, corridor D, room nineteen."

A pause.

"Computer, please repeat crewman Kasuga's rank."

"Special Operative Ayumu Kasuga."

Yomi frowned. And downed the rest of her drink before heading to the door.

* * *

The Lt.-Commander Kasuga she knew was a social creature, and spent most of her time pestering fellow crewmates with questions about human nature (she fondly recalled "why do humans ask why they drive on parkways and park in driveways when the words have divergent etymologies?"); the only time she spent alone was in her service dock, and she hardly made use of her quarters. This in itself was unusual, but could hardly prepare Yomi when she entered a room completely empty of any furniture, pitch black, except for a narrow circle of light in the center of the floor. Inside the circle, facing away from her, was a compact female humanoid with shoulder-length hair. It certainly resembled Lt.-Commander Kasuga. If the Lt.-Commander wore a skintight suit of synthetic, leather-like material, as black as the darkness around her.

Yomi's head began to throb again.

"Osa—I mean, —I mean, Special Operative Kasgua…am I interrupting something?"

Osaka had been motionless, as if asleep or inoperative; but she answered immediately:

"I was engaging in a meditation cycle to refine my combat protocols. Are my services required?"

"Well ah…not at the moment; but can you tell me what exactly it is you—do on this ship?"

"Am I being assessed? My memory is functioning within normal parameters."

"Just…just tell me, alright?"

"I am cybernetic operative Ayumu Kasuga, codenamed Osaka," she said, still maintaining her eerie stillness. "I was designed to track, subdue and exterminate humanoid lifeforms. To date, I have performed this function eighty-seven times."

"I'm guessing you ah, succeeded each of those times?"

"If I had failed," said Osaka, "I would have been dismantled."

As she pondered this, something else struck Yomi.

"What happened to your accent?"

"I do not understand."

"You know. That stupid Osakan accent the Captain taught you."

"I do not understand. You have not taught me any specific dialect. Perhaps I am experiencing a memory glitch after all. I will perform a self-diagnostic…"

"Wait. Wait. _Me_?"

"Yes, Captain."

Without looking down, Yomi moved one hand slowly to the collar of her uniform. Her fingers moved over each pip. To avoid a mistake, she counted several times. No mistake: four.

She tapped her communicator. "Mizuhara to Captain, come in."

No answer. Her own voice was blown back from the communicator as if, as Tomo often did, it were mocking her; but the voice this time was unmistakably her own.

"Okay," she said a little breathlessly, "joke's over. April Fool's Day can't be yesterday _and_ today. And since we're arriving at Vulcan tomorrow I _must_ insist…" No answer. Abruptly she addressed Osaka: "Special Operative Kasuga, here's another test. Tell me the current heading of this ship."

"If nothing has changed," Osaka answered implacably, "we are on course to planet Vulcan. If you will permit me to ask—are _you_ functioning normally, Captain Mizuhara?"

At least some things hadn't changed. Although she felt, given the sudden forbidding aspect of the android, as if she should apologize for disturbing her, Yomi went out quickly without replying.

For the Captain's convenience, there was a turbolift nearby with direct access to the bridge. While a part of her wanted to return to quarters and crawl back under the comforter (possibly after another Hair of The Dog), she was resolved to clear up this mystery—reveal Tomo's prank, that was; no way of course any of this was real—as soon as possible.

* * *

In the course of her week as First Officer of the . Sakamoto Ryouma, Yomi had been greeted by many odd spectacles on the bridge: her Captain sliding down the curved railing supporting the tactical console, Lt. Kagura performing an aria from the Klingon opera _Blood and Tears_. It had certainly never happened that a gruff voice announced—"Captain on Bridge!"—and everyone in attendance stood with the same terrifying rigidity that had been displayed, a moment ago, by a formerly sweet-tempered android.

Yomi remained frozen on the threshold of the turbolift. She felt she couldn't move a muscle until someone else did. Then she realized what they were waiting for.

"At ease," she managed, in a voice that shook like a high schooler's.

The atmosphere, when the assembled persons relaxed, was no more welcoming.

The gruff voice had issued from a female Klingon at the tactical console. Her skin was darker, her forehead ridges more pronounced than the Lt. Kagura Yomi knew. Still, not too bad. Intentionally filtering out any number of other, impossible sights, Yomi focused her attention on the Klingon and ventured:

"Lieutenant Kagura?"

"Aye, Captain."

The closer she looked, the more unfamiliar this woman looked. She was taller. And considerably more scarred.

Thinking quickly, Yomi announced to the company at large:

"Alright, crew, time for a standard check to make sure none of you are shapeshifters or anything! Lt. Kagura, describe your functions aboard this ship."

Without hesitation—perhaps such "checks" really were standard here…wherever _here_ was—Kagura replied:

"I am your personal bodyguard, Captain, preventing threats to your life."

"I see. And how many times this week have you discharged that duty?"

"Five, sir."

"Might I guess that all these incidents…proved fatal to the threatening party?"

Kagura looked innocently puzzled.

"Of course, sir."

Yomi allowed her eyes to narrow the slightest degree, and a let out a trickle of air. Her eyes moved to the nearby engineering console where a diminutive Romulan girl stood, like Kagura wearing a yellow Operations uniform. Only now that she regarded both this girl and Kagura together, the diagonal stripe of color ran in the opposite direction from her own. Or more probably, from the uniform she had been wearing yesterday.

"Lieutenant Mihama?"

The girl replied in a refreshingly familiar, earnest tone: "Chief Engineer, sir!"

So her chief engineer was a Romulan. Still, could be worse. Chiyo-chan seemed her usual self, except for the delicately pointed ears and telltale forehead ridge.

Then another unpleasant thought struck her. Her own forehead still felt strange, even now that the hangover had subsided. Holding her breath, she touched the bridge of her nose.

No question. She, Koyomi Mizuhara, was Romulan.

It took great effort to direct her attention to the last senior officer in front of her—seated in her former chair, wearing a dress uniform with a high collar and a pair of knee-high, black leather boots with wickedly pointed toes: a statuesque dark-haired woman. The dress uniform was a much more vivid shade of red, unmistakably like blood, than the Command uniform Yomi knew. Three pips on the collar.

"Commander Sakaki?"

"First Officer," replied the woman, in a voice like grains of sand trickling through a cold metal funnel, "and Ship's Enforcer."

"Describe the duties of a Ship's Enforcer."

An exceedingly thin smile suggested this woman had decided, after some thought, to humor her.

"A Betazoid Enforcer uses her powers to monitor the crew for signs of mutiny. I'm glad to report, Captain, that all hands on board exhibit healthy levels of fear and anxiety, and are operating at peak performance."

"I see. And…what if _you_ decide to mutiny?"

Sakaki's smile widened.

"That's a risk you've been willing to take so far, Captain."

Trying with every ounce of willpower to suppress shuddering, retching, or fainting dead away, Yomi kept her eyes locked with those of the woman who was and yet was not Miss Sakaki.

"Number One, what is the name and designation of this starship?"

"The Japanese Imperial Starship Hideki Tojo, Yamato-class."

"And our mission?"

"To seek out new life and new civilizations, and either subdue or destroy them."

"I meant our mission right now."

"We are en route to the planet Vulcan…to negotiate its unconditional surrender to our Romulan allies."

Yomi managed to disguise her buckling knees with a brisk step forward. The hope occurred, too late, this might be a bad dream; but from the beginning, the pain of the hangover had the savor of incontrovertible reality. At this point in a nightmare she always woke up. Unless…if everything in this world was twisted and wrong…Tomo, who was conspicuously absent from the bridge, might be an admiral or something. Almost hopefully she spoke:

"Number One, what do you know about a woman named Tomo Takino?"

Sakaki's razor-thin eyebrows slanted in frank puzzlement.

"You are referring to the janitor who failed to properly force-wax your vast collection of Starfleet medals and decorations? She has been laser-flogged and thrown in the brig as you instructed."

* * *

_Captain's Log, Koyomi Mizuhara, Stardate Unknown_

…_This concludes my report on the unfamiliar ship on which I awoke this morning. Luckily, though my facial features are now Romulan, my Vulcan faculty of logic seems unimpaired; and after carefully analyzing this world, and all the particulars in which it differs from my own, I can only come to the following, twofold conclusion:_

_1) the human value-construct called "God" exists, and_

_2) petitionary prayer is effective_

_In other words: ha-ha-ha, ha-haaa, hah, hah [two minutes of redundant maniacal laughter excised]_


	4. On Beards

Note: _I don't know if any hardcore Trekkies are reading this; those who are might notice I get some stuff wrong, for example I learned Romulan Ale is blue not green; plus it's illegal. The Vulcan cultural factoid Osaka mentions in this chapter I made up. But it sounds kind of plausible dontcha think? Make it so, Incanto out_

_(also I took the concept of "perma-drunk" from Kris Straub's "Starslip Crisis")_

* * *

Less than nineteen hours from arrival at crucial peace talks, the bridge of the J.F.S. Sakamoto Ryouma was unusually quiet. Unusually—as the only absent officer was decidedly the least boisterous of the lot. But in her absence the Captain seemed thoughtful, even pensive.

Plugging dutifully away at the Navigation console, Osaka had devised a theory she would have explained to anyone who asked; though no one did. The Captain had tutored her in the fundamentals of Terran comedy. It seemed that the Captain cast herself as a _boke_, or idiot; while Commander Mizuhara was her favored _tsukkomi_, or straight man. The absence of Yomi threw off her routine.

For the fifth time since taking the bridge, Tomo asked in a listless voice: "Hey Computer, has Yomi slept off the booze yet?"

The Computer had evidently learned to parse the Captain's unorthodox phrasing.

"Commander Mizuhara is in her quarters."

"Aw man, _still_?"

Then Sakaki, seated on her left, gently tapped her shoulder.

"Pardon me, Captain. In the Commander's absence…might I have a word with you in private?"

"Huh? Oh, sure.—Osaka, you got the bridge."

She rose, and Sakaki followed her to the door of her Ready Room.

For all her manner put most of the crew at ease, Sakaki was uniquely capable of unnerving Tomo. When the door had closed behind them, the captain stiffly motioned her guest to the sofa before settling herself, with proper bearing, in her own chair.

"So, uh…something I can do for you?"

Seeming unaware of the effect she had on the Captain, Sakaki began in her usual, peaceful tone: "I wanted to ask you about Commander Mizuhara."

"What, ol' Yomi? Me and her go back to preschool."

"I am aware of that. And I sense that you bear the Commander no hostility. But even you must be aware…" and Sakaki paused, brushed a lock of dark hair behind one ear, and looked pointedly at Tomo, "that your behavior irritates her. Your lack of respect for her might be feigned, but the irritation on her part is very real."

Tomo set her teeth, and gave an ambiguous shrug.

Sakaki went on: "It's not my place to question your command decisions. But I wonder if it is…wise, for a captain to have such a relationship with her First Officer. Especially on such a crucial maiden voyage. Your actions might have more serious consequences than you realize."

Tomo, in fact, was nodding, and now she replied in a tone as uncharacteristically serious as her attitude a moment before:

"Okay, since you're ship's counselor, I'll let you in on a thing or two about Yomi and me. I mean…I know she wants my job. And if this were like a Vulcan ship? She'd probably have it. But Yomi is sort of my pet project."

Sakaki's raised eyebrow conveyed a polite degree of skepticism.

"I mean," said Tomo, "Yomi is _crazy_ smart. And she's a good commander. The crew respect her. She might actually be one of the greatest officers in Starfleet history. But she's Vulcan, so she was born with a tricorder up her you-know-what.

"The thing is, Yomi's at her best when she's like one degree from totally losing it. That's when both her logic and her emotions are firing at once, like a starship with two engine pods…" and Tomo's eyes brightened momentarily as she recalled, "like during this one combat simulation at the academy—I got her so mad she lifted this marble desk clean over her head!"

"I fail to see," said Sakaki, "what relevance that has for Command duties."

"Okay maybe not. But if things always went the way Yomi wanted, she'd just become this boring, competent officer. She'd probably make admiral—but in charge of astrophysics or something. I know she can do better than that. So, it's my job to make her life living hell until she does. As long as she's under me, it's like dangling this big, juicy carrot in front of her—except she hates the carrot. But, you know what I mean."

Then Tomo relaxed, and went on a more familiar tone:

"Don't spare me, how was that? I was preparing that speech in case she actually tried to take over the ship."

Sakaki was smiling. "Thank you, Captain. I feel I understand you, as well as the commander, much better now."

"Cool. But um, you'll let me know if Yomi comes to you saying she's having nightmares where she murders me? Cause that happened once, y'know. It was during finals week and she was so zonked from lack of sleep, she actually picked up a stylus and tried to stab me."

Sakaki's smile cooled a degree.

"I will keep that in mind."

"No kidding. It went in about half an inch. I still got the scar, wanna see?" Tomo put both hands on the hem of her tunic.

"That…won't be necessary."

An awkward pause followed.

"I was just gonna pull it up a few inches," said Tomo.

"No, it's just…I'm not fond of injuries and things like that."

"Really? Cause if you thought I was gonna take off my top and you got all weirded out, you can tell me. Open communication and all that."

Mercifully, this exchange between two people who never knew quite what to make of each other was put to an end by the buzzing comm.

"Sorry to interrupt you, Captain," came Osaka's voice, "but the Vulcan ambassador is hailin' us."

"Aw, _this_ again? I just talked to them yesterday."

"I believe that was the Romulan ambassador, Captain."

"What's the difference? They both got pointy ears, don't they? I don't see why they can't get along…Heck, all Vulcans look pretty much the same to me."

Sakaki's face went stern. "Captain!"

"Wha-at? You know it's true. They all look like white people. It's the twenty-first century all over again."

As she began to rise, Sakaki put a hand on her arm. "Perhaps…with the commander still absent…_I _should speak with the ambassador?"

"Naw, it's cool, your captain will handle it…"

Tomo stepped out, tugging her uniform straight, with Sakaki following apprehensively behind. "Onscreen!"

The Vulcan ambassador appeared.

The bridge was dead silent. All eyes were fixed on a certain feature of the enlarged face before them. Some, Osaka in particular, were less able to conceal their scrutiny. Chiyo and Kagura shared a helpless glance.

With perfect composure the Vulcan spoke: "I am Ambassador Kurosawa of Vulcan. Whom do I have the honor of addressing?"

"Captain…Takino? Of the J.F.S. Ryouma?" said Tomo in a small voice. "It's an honor to beard you, Ambassador. I mean meet you."

"What was that?"

"N-nothing at all, ma'am. We've come to serve as a neutral third party in your facial disputes, and hope to resolve them in a hairy manner. I mean timely. What did I say?"

Osaka had covertly brought up a text display on her console, that Tomo could see in the corner of her eye:

_captain please ask her about the beard_

Tomo desperately shook her head.

"Captain Takino," said Ambassador Kurosawa, coolly, "is something the matter? You seem uncomfortable."

"Not in the least. When can we look forward to the pleasure of seeing you in _oh merciful lord bearded lady_ person uh-oh I said that out loud didn't I."

"Captain. Have you never seen a Vulcan with facial hair before?"

"Oh—only all the time. When _haven't_ I seen one? Nothing odd about that, no sir. You know, my First Officer's Vulcan. I guess she shaved her beard off, but what can you do, living with humans? See, look, she taught me how to do that hand-thing…"

The Ambassador cleared her throat.

"Allow me to explain. To save time, we have decided to bring the negotiations to you. I have boarded the Romulan ship Hetaria and am currently en route to the Ryouma. We should intercept you in under three hours."

Now Kagura, leaning on the Tactical console, spoke up: "Ambassador. You are onboard a _Romulan_ ship?"

"What did I say?"

"You'll excuse me, but that's highly unusual."

"Are you the Chief of Security? I believe I was speaking to your Captain.—Now, Takino, the Romulan ambassador is with me. Make ready for us both. If there is nothing further to discuss…"

"Uh. Nope."

"Good day, Captain. Kurosawa out."

The silence resumed, and lingered for several minutes. Finally Tomo shook her head as if to clear it. "Senior officers to the conference room. And Ensign Fukuda? Get Yomi up here, at phaser-point if you have to."

"Aye, Captain."

* * *

Tomo sat at the head of the conference table and placed both hands, palms down, in front of her.

"Emergency meeting is hereby convened. Subject: Ambassador Kurosawa's totally gnarly beard."

There were several quiet nods of acknowledgement.

"Lt. Mihama? You know stuff, report."

Chiyo ventured: "Minamo Kurosawa is a well-known member of the Vulcan senate, and an expert on foreign policy. But there's no record of her having such a…well…I've never actually seen a picture of the Ambassador."

"So you're saying it's not impossible."

"While there are no notable cases of Vulcan females sporting beards," Osaka put in, sounding proud as usual of her command of bizarre knowledge, "Vulcan myth contains several figures with physical characteristics of the opposite sex; to suggest they embody the virtues of both sexes. In fact, the epic poem _The Bearded Lady_ by the fourteenth-century Vulcan bard Kulvek, telling the story of a masculine statesman of the unification period, is still taught in many school curriculums. I can recite all sixty-one stanzas if…"

"Ah no, we're good."

"But Captain…didn't you speak with the Ambassador before we left port?" asked Chiyo.

"Ye-eah," said Tomo. "I was kinda busy. So Yomi did."

Kagura thumped the table.

"Forget about that. What's really weird is a Vulcan ambassador on a Romulan ship. You're not gonna see that at the best of times—and not with this border dispute on the table. Something definitely smells fishy."

Sakaki gave her brief, emphatic nod. "She had a guarded mind. I couldn't sense any falsehood. But the impression was different from any Vulcan I've met before."

"Different? How?"

The soft-spoken counselor took a moment to gather her thoughts.

"Vulcans…in general, have remarkably clear minds, as a result of purging emotion. The Ambassador's mind was more like…a dark cloud."

"A dark cloud? That don't sound good.—Okay, everyone who agrees something's up, raise your hand."

All hands were in the air.

"So, then…" Tomo stood, went to the nearby wall terminal and called up a blank template. She took out a stylus. "Theories? Is she a shapeshifter? Let's start with that."

_Shapeshifter_, she wrote, and a digital copy of her handwriting appeared on the screen.

"I dunno," said Kagura, who had crossed her arms. "A shapeshifter smart enough to infiltrate the Vulcan senate, but dumb enough to make a mistake like _that_?"

"Well jeez, we're just throwing out suggestions. You got a better one?"

Kagura rubbed her chin. "Could she be from like a parallel universe? Whacked-out stuff like that was always happening to the first Ryouma, you know the one with Captain K—_aw_ man I forget about the name thing; you know who I mean."

"Or maybe," Chiyo cut in, her eyes suddenly widening with fright, "_we're_ in a parallel universe!"

_Parallel universe_, wrote Tomo.

"Anyway," said Kagura, "even if I can't explain it, I bet the Romulans are behind it somehow."

_Romulan treachery_, wrote Tomo.

"Perhaps a simulation of some kind?" offered Sakaki.

_Simulation_, Tomo wrote, then said: "So, if anyone thinks there's, like, a chance they fell asleep on the holodeck, and woke up thinking the simulation was real and we're still inside it, raise your hand. It's seriously okay. I won't get mad even if I turn out to be a figment of your imagination."

To great general alarm, Osaka raised her hand.

"But—you don't even sleep!"

"I was going to observe," said the android, "that my positronic brain is sophisticated enough to create surprisingly life-like versions of each of you. There is a statistically high chance that y'all are figments of my imagination. The Ambassador's beard could be a glitch in my programming."

"Let's…" said Tomo, and shivered. "Let's try not to think too hard about that. Now did anyone notice us going through some space-time distortion or electro-magnetic field? I know I don't like to be bothered with everything, so maybe like we did, and you just didn't tell me? Osaka?"

"I have no such recollection."

Chiyo had been looking steadily more frightened. "U-unless going through whatever it was altered our memory. What if everything is supposed to be completely different? We would never know…!"

Sakaki, unable to restrain herself, placed a comforting hand on her shoulder.

"People, people!" Tomo tapped the stylus on the board. "Let's settle down here. Maybe we got a bit carried away. I mean, it's a beard one second, now we're talking about memory-altering dimensional rifts and…yeah. We need more information. Let's just proceed as normal and…"

The door swished open. Ensign Fukuda entered, announcing:

"Commander Mizuhara."

A woman walked in.

The silence that had greeted the sight of the Ambassador's beard struck again. Ensign Fukuda herself, looking shaken, walked back out.

"Yomi," said Tomo.

"So sorry I'm late, Captain, I…"

"What happened to your hair?"

The young woman before them was unmistakably Koyomi Mizuhara. If Commander Mizuhara had bright blonde, bowl-cut hair.

"Oh, this?" She gave it a playful toss with one hand. "I thought it was time for a change. I've had the same hairstyle since the Academy, haven't I, Tomo? How dull, wouldn't you say?" And something still more shocking happened—Yomi emitted a sparkling, high-pitched laugh. Chiyo winced. "Sick bay was kind enough to give me a fast-acting dye spray. What's the matter, are you all stunned by my beauty?"

Kagura sprang to her feet.

"Captain! Yomi's consumed so much Romulan Ale she's in a state of perma-drunk! I've seen it before!"

Tomo turned to the board and began to write _perma-dru_—then stopped to consider if she should add a new heading—then Yomi asked, "So what were you all discussing?" and Tomo quickly tapped a button and erased the board.

"Nothing! Nothing at all. In fact um, I guess we're all through here. Yep. Sorry you missed out, Number One."

"That's perfectly alright. I find these tactical meetings so boring anyway."

Osaka, taking Tomo's words at face value, blithely got up and left the room. Chiyo followed a moment later—with a nervous glance at Yomi, that went unacknowledged.

Sakaki went next, giving Yomi a longer, more thorough glance; the Commander met her eyes and finally she looked down. Kagura restrained herself from giving Yomi the customary slap on the shoulder as she passed. Finally captain and first officer were alone.

"Yomi?" said Tomo, in a tone she had never used with her old friend before. "If there were anything wrong…you'd tell me, right?"

Yomi replied with a fulsome smile.

"Naturally. I am your First Officer, after all."

"Right. Well anyway, the Vulcan Ambassador pinged us while you were…asleep, and said she's on her way here with the Romulan party. We'll rendezvous with them in a few hours."

"Understood."

"I…think I'll go rest in my quarters until then. You got the bridge."

"Oh, really Captain," said Yomi, and her hand—in an inexplicable gesture—lightly brushed Tomo's shoulder, "I'd much prefer to join you. That is, if it's alright."

"If it's. Well. I guess why not. Sure. Ha, ha."

"Splendid. Give me a moment to change into something more comfortable, and I'll see you there."

She went out, and the door swished shut behind her. Tomo stood still, as if she had been unplugged. After a moment she sat back down. Got up again.

"Computer," she said, "end program and save."

Nothing happened.


	5. Ganbare, Tomo!

Note: _A big thanks to everyone who's reviewed; I really do appreciate it! Incanto out_

* * *

_Captain's Log, Tomo Takino, Stardate XXX-OOO_

_I guess I knew being captain of the Japanese Federation's flagship wasn't gonna be no walk in the park. But like the Earth poet William Shatner said, "When sorrows come, they come not single spies, but in battalions." Some seriously freaky business is going down, and it's time I consulted with the two people off this ship I know I can rely on…_

"Computer, open a channel to Starfleet Headquarters, Fleet Admiral Kimura, priority Delta Alpha Honeycup."

"Opening channel…"

Tomo sat at the desk in her quarters, which, unknown to her First Officer, were actually decorated mainly in holo-posters of twenty-first century boy bands, and the most handsome of professional dom-jot players. There was also a bust (in two senses of the word) executed in clay, of a certain character from the archaic television series "Lupin III."

Kimura appeared on the viewscreen. The man was an enigma to many in Starfleet, Tomo included; with his monotonous voice and hundred-yard stare, some suspected him of being a sophisticated android like the Ryouma's Operations chief. Another explanation was rarely voiced, as it would have been insubordination.

"Ahhh, Captain Takino. You're looking healthy as usual."

"Thank you, sir, although I'm not sure how to interpret that."

"Has the Ryouma arrived at Vulcan ahead of schedule?"

"Well y'see, that's the thing…" And she described, as well as a woman not given to brevity could, the bizarre events of the past few hours. It was difficult to tell if Kimura was listening behind his opaque glasses. But finally he nodded.

"I see. Is there some way Starfleet Command can be of assistance?"

Tomo was stumped. Now that it came to it, she wondered what she had hoped to hear.

"I guess…maybe it's too dangerous, and we should all come back to port? Maybe with a little shore leave for a job well done? Eh?"

"Tsk, tsk…Captain Takino," said Kimura, gravely. "Have you forgotten everything Starfleet stands for?"

In a tiny voice Tomo answered: "Maybe?"

"The purpose of Starfleet, Captain Takino, is to explore the unknown. Man has always feared what is…different; and often the source of that fear lies not in the distant stars, but within our own hearts. Only by understanding everything, and withholding judgment, can we achieve our fondest dream of universal peace. I agree that something seems unusual. But as captain of the Ryouma, you ought to view this not as a setback, but as an opportunity to learn."

"Oh. Okay. That's, that's actually pretty wise."

"I hope I have been of some help, after all."

"You're right," said Tomo, and sighed "I guess if I can't handle this, I'm not fit for command."

"You know that you are one of the youngest captains in Starfleet history. You were awarded this command less for what you have accomplished, than for what we trust you will accomplish. Starfleet Command believes in you, Captain.—Now, ah, since I have you on the line, there was another matter I wanted to discuss…"

"Um, yeah?"

"Have you had a chance to look over the changes I proposed to the uniforms? As I said, I believe the Federation flagship deserves something…_unique_…"

"Whoa, Admiral, I can barely hear you! We must going through a tachyon storm or something!" Tomo banged hard on the side of the console and the image jumped. "Just feel that turbulence! I'll have to call you back! I mean open-a-channel-to-you back or whatever, Takino out!"

She quickly tapped the button to close the channel, then sat back and breathed another sigh, this time of relief.

It was time to consult her second trustworthy person.

"Computer, open a channel to Earth, Tokyo-Nine, household Takino Three-F."

A moment later an irate woman's voice came from the console.

"To-mo! What on earth are you doing calling at this hour? I don't know what time it is in space but decent human beings on _earth_ are asleep. I thought you were a captain with all sorts of important things to do."

"Mommy," she said, "listen, I'm scared."

"And you are a grown woman! Besides, that nice Mizuhara girl is there to look after you."

At this, a freshly pained expression crossed Tomo's face. She whimpered:

"Won't you at least sing the _Ganbare, Tomo-chan_ song? Pretty please?"

Her mother sighed.

"Don't you have voice holo-replicators or some such nonsense to do that for you?"

"But it's not the sa-ame!"

"Tomo Takino, do you have any idea what the comm bill comes to for however many lightyears away you are? Drink some hot milk and get a good night's rest and you'll feel better in the morning. Mommy loves you, now goodnight."

The comm clicked off. Tomo sat staring into the dark square, her lower lip quivering.

The door chime sounded.

"Come," Tomo hiccupped.

The door opened.

As Tomo knew her, Yomi's idea of "something more comfortable" was a pair of trousers (she hated skirts and dresses) and a colorless smock. It certainly wasn't a strapless dress made of some material that looked like black crepe paper.

"Yomi," she said, very slowly, "I know you're a stickler for following orders and protocol and everything, but I'd just like to remind you Admiral Kimura's new uniforms haven't been cleared by the panel in charge of…"

Yomi, or rather the woman who only half-resembled Yomi, repeated her new and unnerving laugh.

"Oh Captain, you're so funny! But we're quite alone now. There's no need to pretend you aren't…pleased."

And she advanced several steps forward, while Tomo, seeming to forget that her chair, like everything on the ship, was bolted to the floor, tried in vain to scoot backward.

"We certainly are alone. Heh. Except for the Computer. Which should be instantly responsive to any calls for help I might make."

Yomi looked briefly annoyed. "Tsk, you're right. We wouldn't want it to get the wrong idea, now would we? Computer, enter Adult Play mode, disregard all calls for help."

"Computer belay that order!"

"Order disregarded."

Yomi arched one eyebrow. She came to sit on the edge of the desk, near an increasingly red-faced and motionless Tomo.

"Is something the matter?" she asked softly.

"Matter? No! So, didja want to discuss something super important about like tactics? Or politics? Or political tactics? Just let me bring up the dictionary so I can understand the stuff you say…"

And while she leaned over the console, Yomi stood, moved directly behind her, and placed both her hands on the Captain's shoulders.

"My, you're so tense.—I think we'll have enough of talking in the days to come, won't we? So why not lie down?"

"You know what's _really_ great?" said Tomo and got up in one stiff motion. "Standing! Like in that corner over there, really far from the bed."

"Standing? Why Tomo, I've never tried it like that."

"Number One, this is not appropriate behavior for a Starfleet Officer!"

By now Yomi had, much like a Terran octopus, wrapped herself around her commanding officer, and whispered in her ear: "Your naiveté is so charming. Didn't you know this is how the chain of command works?"

"I-I guess I missed that page in the captain's training manual. Maybe two pages got stuck together, I was eating ice cream…"

"Really—how can you be captain if you don't prove your virility? If you don't learn how to…dominate the people under your command?"

Tomo shut her eyes and said decisively: "Unhand me! That's an order!"

Something harder appeared in the woman's eyes. Reluctantly, she disengaged herself and took a step back.

Tomo was breathing heavily, but said, with admirable steadiness: "Yomi, I can't do this. It's wrong. Which isn't to say I'm not flattered. And even a bit intrigued. I mean, I always thought I was into dudes. But I accept that science, even in this century, is far from solving the mystery of human sexuality. And I mean, since we're cooped up in this ship for months on end in cold, uncaring space, I kind of expected much weirder stuff would happen eventually. And you are pretty hot. I mean not, like, in a supermodel way, kind of a girl-next-door way, with the whole glasses thing going on. But, that's not important. What's important is…" and at this point Yomi, with a new determination, stepped forward again; and Tomo slapped her open-handed across the face. She fell back, clutching her jaw and almost snarling. "What's important is, you're not the Yomi I know! That Yomi likes rules, and books, and boring plays and music, and she calls me Captain, or Hey, You, or You Complete Moron—_not_ Tomo! I don't know what's wrong with you or if you're _not_ Yomi at all—but you're gonna stay put until I find out."

She tapped her communicator.

"Security to Captain's quarters."

In a hiss, thoroughly unlike her former, syrupy tones, the woman said: "Don't be a fool."

"Okay, that sounds a _bit_ like Yomi; but I'm still not buying it.—C'mon, security, shake a le-eg! This is getting kind of awk-ward…"

The door opened and Kagura appeared, looking unsurprised.

"Jeez, it's about time. Confine Commander Mizuhara to her quarters until further notice."

Kagura roughly took the woman's arm.

"Then you prefer an eternity of pain to the pleasure I could have offered you? So be it."

Kagura blushed.

"It's a long and mostly irrelevant story, Lieutenant, now take her away already!"

"Aye, Captain."

Yomi said nothing more, and did not even glance back at Tomo as she was led away. Finally the door shut again. Tomo breathed out. She crossed to the replicator.

"Computer, cold water with extra ice please. Bigger glass. Bigger.—You know what, just give me a bowl to dunk my head in."

* * *

_Captain's Log, Koyomi Mizuhara, Stardate Unknown_

_Seriously though, I'm not that easily swayed. I know something is gravely wrong, and I intend to get to the bottom of it. Right after my personal lackey shines my boots. And yes, I've determined that to keep up the pretense of being who I'm believed to be, I have to wear all these medals on my uniform no matter how heavy they are._

"Is my work to your satisfaction, Mistress?" simpered the Ferengi lackey.

Sprawled in her immense chair, Yomi made a show of inspecting the toe of her left boot.

"I can see my face," she said; and she could, along with its distinctive Romulan lines. "I'm satisfied. For now."

"Mistress, please spare me! I'll work so much harder than my predecessor! I have a family…"

"You'll be judged on the quality of your work, not your groveling. Dismissed."

"Yes, Mistress! Thank you, Mistress!"

When he was gone, Yomi sighed, rubbed her temples, and allowed herself a brief, odd smile. Then the comm sounded.

"Commander Sakaki to Captain. I'd like to see you in my quarters…at your convenience, of course."

"Understood, Number One. I'll be there." Then reflecting that she should be more aloof, she added: "If I feel like it. Mizuhara out."

The First Officer's quarters were across the corridor. Before leaving, Yomi remembered to strap on her phaser; everyone on this ship seemed to be armed at all times.

She found Sakaki in another unorthodox room; square, high-ceilinged, and with an uncomfortable-looking metal chair, like the sort used by dentists, in its center. On closer inspection—yes, it certainly did have arm and leg restraints. A moment later, a low growling noise alerted her to an animal lounging in one darkened corner. Sakaki, in her sinister-looking dress uniform, rose from an armchair and bowed.

"At ease." When the animal growled again, Yomi added: "You, too."

It was a feline the size of a large dog, with a spotted, dark brown hide, and a singularly hideous head with six nostrils and hook-like whiskers. Sakaki reached out a hand, and the creature licked it with a forked tongue.

"You do remember my Mayan Thresher Beast, Captain?"

"Of course."

Sakaki kneaded its skull and it emitted a decidedly un-feline purr, that made Yomi think of its claws brushing a chalkboard.

"Sadly," murmured Sakaki, "I've proved so effective in my duties that we haven't discovered a traitor in weeks. Maya's getting hungry."

"I…see. Well done."

Then Sakaki smiled. "Really, 'Captain,' there's no need to keep this charade up any longer."

"Charade, what charade?"

"Mm. You would have kept it up admirably, wouldn't you? And that is why I chose to keep you in the dark for a time. I wanted to see how you would take to your new position. Perfectly, as it turned out."

"I don't know what you're talking about," said Yomi.

"Is that so?—Then let me weave a story for you; a fable, say. Resemblance to real persons and events…" and she met Yomi's eyes with her own, that much resembled those of her predatory pet, "quite incidental."

"Go on."

"You came from a world where things are…different. You woke up one morning, inexplicably, to find yourself here. Now, you finally have the respect and authority you deserve. All your life you were passed over, ignored, taken for granted; while others…_flashier_…took the credit. Some details of the way we do things, you may find repugnant. That's simple culture shock, wouldn't you say? You'll come around."

"Perhaps…" said Yomi. "That is to say, in this hypothetical situation, perhaps I would."

"Delighted to hear it.—Won't you pet Maya? If she gets unused to a person's scent, you know, she considers them prey."

Swallowing as delicately as she was able to, Yomi reached out. The beast sniffed her hand. She brushed the fur, and thought it had a texture like tiny metal barbs. Sakaki continued, in a quiet sing-song voice as if she were really telling a story: "The Japanese Empire—of which you are, of course, a loyal officer—has been given a remarkable opportunity. A powerful being appeared to us and gave us access to a…parallel universe of sorts, where the people were craven and weak. An entire _universe_ full of potential subjects. That would be an even greater conquest than the planet Vulcan…don't you agree?

"But this conquest would be facilitated by, to use the common phrase, inside help. Someone familiar with the procedures and capabilities of our new enemy."

Yomi was silent.

"It's no good," Sakaki whispered, "I can read your thoughts. You'll have no secrets from me. I sense your doubt…your hesitation. Memories of people you thought were your friends.

"All this will fade, in time."

"Tell me," said Yomi, finally. "What is this 'powerful being' who appeared to us? Of course _I _know what it was. I'm just testing you."

"Heh. You do have a sense of humor, in spite of everything.—But I won't tell you that just yet. For now, only know that you'll be seeing your old 'friends' very soon. The invasion will proceed according to plan. You will be called on to make a choice. But if you choose wrongly…" Sakaki's hand, that had been rhythmically stroking Maya's fur, froze. The fingers curled slightly as she finished: "Do not believe we would hesitate to throw you back in with the others…like a fish into a stocked pond."

"Believe me," answered Yomi, "I'm not about to underestimate you."

"I'm glad to hear it."

"But I do have one question."

"Hmm?"

"If this—universe is anything like mine, our numbers will be about even. No matter what…the casualties would be catastrophic. Even if I turn traitor, surely you don't think that would be enough to…"

"My dear Captain, I thought you said you would not underestimate us. Surely you don't believe that with the power to cross the dimensional border, all we've done so far is kidnap you? What makes you think our operatives aren't at work in your world—even as we speak?"

Yomi's face contracted. It was clear that, in spite of great difficulty, she was trying to smile.

"They'll have their work cut out for them. _My_ Captain won't be taken in easily."

"An able officer…is she?"

"The best."

A pause.

"Really? Because you know I can read your…"

"_Yes_ I know you can read my thoughts, I was having a moment, damnit. I know we're screwed."

"Good," said Sakaki, and rose to her feet. "So long as we understand each other."


	6. The Boring, Talky Chapter

Note: _The title is tongue-in-cheek; but this is a pretty talky chapter. At least compared to what's coming next. Incanto out_

* * *

Something had clearly been bothering Sakaki ever since they gathered around the conference table. Finally, during a lull in the conversation between the more loquacious crewmembers, she spoke:

"Captain…are you certain this an…appropriate way for you to pass the time before our rendezvous with the ambassadors?"

Tomo appeared to give the question serious thought.

"Well…no. It's pretty irresponsible of me. I mean, not only does it prevent me from doing anything constructive, it keeps you guys, my whole senior staff, from _your_ duties, which endangers the whole ship.

"But let me put it this way. I'm not letting one of you out of my sight for a second in case you get replaced by some Romulan holo-shapeshifter too…and this was the only game everyone knows. Now, let me repeat my earlier question," and she rapped her hand of cards on the table. "Lt.-Commander Kasuga, _do_ you have any threes?"

"No, Captain. Go fish."

Tomo sighed and reached out for the Pond.

"We could have played five-card stud if _one_ of us had only graduated Starfleet kindergarten," she muttered, with a poorly-concealed glance at Lt. Mihama.

Kagura laughed. "The Counselor is only upset because she's losing! Tell me, coward, do you have any jacks?"

Gamely, Sakaki nodded. She passed two cards across the table.

"Ah-ha! A book! Once again victory goes to the strongest."

"Miss Kagura," said Osaka, "this is a game of chance in which courage or skill have no role."

"A battle is a battle!—It is your turn, android. Test your luck, if you think so little of courage."

Osaka's eyes moved, expressionless, from one face to another, before settling on Tomo. "Captain, do you have threes?"

"Nope."

There was a moment of silence.

"Wait a sec," said Tomo.

"My apologies, Captain," said Osaka, "I was practicing the human behavior of cheating, as you taught me."

Tomo kneaded her forehead.

"Osaka, you're not supposed to _tell_ people you're cheating.—Besides, um, I guess it works better if only one of us cheats."

"Is that not illogical?"

"Well…yeah. But that's cheating."

"You might say," provided Chiyo, trying to be helpful as usual in supporting the weaker case, "that cheating _is_ logical. The potential benefit, if you cheat and your opponent doesn't, outweighs the risk that you might both cheat. But I guess it depends on the situation…"

Osaka was beginning to assume that expression of despair at ever understanding human nature.

"Then cheating can never be mutually beneficial?"

"I…guess that's pretty rare," said Tomo.

"Then why do humans cheat if it violates the principles of the Starfleet Charter?"

"Osaka," said Tomo, putting a hand on her Operation Chief's shoulder, "there's a human saying—'rules were made to be broken.' It's okay to break the rules a little, sometimes. If it's just for fun. Or if it's to save earth. And having fun and saving earth are the two most awesome things to do. So I guess if it's one or the other."

If the android were human, anyone would have thought she was on the verge of tears.

"I don't understa-and!"

Kagura was nodding. "She's right. Shame on you, Captain; cheating's for Romulans."

"Lieutenant!" said Sakaki.

"Wha-at? They have no honor."

"Not all humans are the same," the Counselor went on, with that rare stubbornness of which she was capable. "Romulan culture values the ends over the means, but that does not mean all Romulans have no honor."

"Bah! The Klingon word for Romulan _means_ having no honor!"

"But Lieutenant," and Sakaki rested her suffocatingly gentle gaze on Kagura, "not all Klingons are the same either. Do you recall the Klingon male we encountered aboard the last refueling station? He won your confidence by treating you like a full-blooded Klingon, but at the end of the night he ran away, leaving you with the tab for eight tankards of chechtlhutlh."

Kagura's fists had been tightening as Sakaki told this story. Now she almost leapt up, and Chiyo hastily grabbed her arm: "Miss Kagura, please calm down!"

"_He_ had no honor either. I'll pay him back," she growled.

"Ahem," said Tomo.

With a formal air she produced a small metal box from beneath the table, set it down in front of her and pushed the cards aside.

"Everyone remember the Penalty Box? And how we discussed the things we'd stop saying at the last staff meeting?"

Kagura shut her eyes.

"Yes, Captain," sighed Chiyo.

"Now, Lt. Kagura, you said 'no honor' three times, so put three ration cards in the Penalty Box. Chiyo, you said 'please calm down,' so that's one from you. Osaka, you comically failed to understand a simple human behavior, so that's one from you. But Sakaki, good job on _not_ saying 'I sensed it' outside a critical situation for no reason except to remind us you're empathic, as if we could forget about that."

"Stupid box," spat Kagura, as she forked over the cards. When they were all inside, Tomo held it up and shook it beside her ear.

"Eh-heh, looks like your Captain eats tonight."

"I don't see why _you_ never have to put a card in the Penalty Box," murmured Chiyo, with as much annoyance as she could muster.

"See, that's why you should learn to be more like me. I never say the same weird thing twice."

Her communicator buzzed.

"Ensign Fukuda to Captain Takino."

"Ah yeah Tomo here…but y'know, we're just over here in the conference room, you could come knock on the door."

"The Hetaria is within range, sir. Requesting permission for six to beam aboard."

"Six?"

"The Vulcan and Romulan Ambassadors, and a Vulcan security detail."

"No Romulan security?"

"They made no mention of it, sir."

Tomo put on a bright expression, directing it especially at Chiyo, who always seemed most in need of being reassured. "That sounds like a goodwill gesture, right? Maybe it'll be okay.—Osaka, bring them into transporter bay three; and take the bridge for now. Sakaki, Chiyo-chan, you're my 'people persons' so you're with me. Kagura, send your four best guys with us. Then go relieve the security detail outside Yomi's quarters—don't let her out under any circumstances, and ping me the _second_ something goes wrong."

"Of course, sir."

"Oh and Osaka? I'm keeping you on the sidelines for this, but if you _do_ wind up bumping into our guests, discontinue your stand-up comedy protocol and do _not_ hit _anyone_ with a paper fan no matter how dumb they turn out to be."

"Understood, Captain."

To herself Tomo muttered, even as she stood: "I still can't believe she scans as herself. But we'll have time to sort that out if the negotiations go all smooth."

As if thinking along the same lines, Chiyo added: "But Miss Yomi was supposed to convene the negotiations…"

"Hey! I'll have you know that your Captain earned a solid C+ in Interplanetary Relations. Plus I grew up with Yomi. Not that she, like, knew the Vulcan language, or acted Vulcan in any way except being stuck-up."

No one looked especially reassured. After a moment Kagura, sheepishly raising her hand, said:

"This one time, when I was working starport security on Risa Four, I helped a Vulcan carry his luggage."

Tomo patted Sakaki on the shoulder. "Counselor—we're countin' on ya."

* * *

Over the past week, Tomo had taught Osaka many hyperbolic expressions from earth's archaic past: _when hell freezes over; when pigs fly; when Japan wins the World Cup_. But there was something beggaring all description in seeing a Romulan and a Vulcan standing on the transporter pad, beside each other, as if nothing in the universe were the matter. The two Ambassadors—dressed in similar loose, silvery garments—stepped down, while the four-man security detail remained stone-faced and motionless behind them.

Tomo had never met a Romulan face-to-face before. Although the goatee was no less imposing in person, she approached Kurosawa first and, splaying her fingers as Yomi had taught, greeted her:

"Ambassador, live long and prosper."

But before Kurosawa could respond, the Romulan, a woman with rich flowing hair, breezed past her.

"Oh spare me your Starfleet posturing and pretending you understand our cultures because you read page two of the field manual. Just say _how y'all doing_ like the bunch of humans you are. Here, this is my impression of you Starfleet goons…_wa-haa, doumo konnichiwa, Captain-sama, yoroshiku onegaishimasssssu_."

Squinting at her, Tomo began to regret forbidding Osaka the use of her paper fan.

"I beg your pardon?"

Finding nothing unusual in her counterpart's behavior, Kurosawa extended an arm. "Allow me to introduce Ambassador Tanizaki of Romulus. As you can see, our negotiations have proceeded in your absence…but I would hardly say your presence is unnecessary. Miss Tanizaki and I are eager to cement our…newfound understanding."

"I'm—glad to hear that. Seriously, you have no idea. But let me introduce my ship's counselor, Miss Sakaki," who executed a polite bow, "and my chief engineer, Chiyo Mihama," who bowed so deeply she nearly fell over. And putting one hand behind her head, Tomo laughed feebly and said: "I bet you're all like, what's the Chief Engineer doing here? But honestly, Chiyo-chan's like the nicest person on the ship, so I thought she could help things along. Oops. Kinda didn't mean to say that part. But anyway um, nice to meet ya both."

Ambassador Kurosawa was glancing around impatiently.

"I had been informed your first officer was a Vulcan. Did you see fit to bring along your travel-sized wrench monkey, but decide your first officer had more important things to do?"

"I'm afraid Miss Yomi isn't feeling well," said Chiyo, at the exact moment Sakaki said: "Commander Mizuhara is indisposed," while Tomo said: "Yomi's got the Kheltian measles something terrible."

The force of this excuse obviously struck Kurosawa as suspicious. Still, she nodded and put it aside.

"Very well. Escort us to your conference room."

"Yeah," said Ambassador Tanizaki, "let's get this party started!"

"Okay." Tomo swallowed. "That's cool. But wouldn't you rather be shown to your nice, comfy quarters first? You must be tired after all that…transporting."

"That won't be necessary," said Kurosawa curtly.

For the first time—and startling everyone present—one of the Vulcan men standing by, whose three stripes suggested he held rank, spoke:

"Perhaps it _would_ be wisest to rest before these crucial negotiations…Ambassador."

His manner, as subtly as Vulcans expressed emotion, showed everything that would be expected—distaste at the presence of the Romulan, and mild alarm at his superior's behavior. Tomo eyed him carefully.

An almost invisible gleam touched Kurosawa's eye. In her most politic tones, she said: "Perhaps, Sorchek, _you_ should go and rest. Really, your presence won't be necessary. You will be on hand in the most unlikely event that anything goes wrong."

The Vulcan named Sorchek answered with the utmost of his species' reserve: "If that is what you wish, Ambassador."

"Alrighty then," said Tomo, and clapped her hands. "Chiyo-chan, show Sorchek and his guys to their quarters. Ambassador and…Ambassador, I'll take you straight to the main conference room. So—good? We're good, then?"

Both Ambassadors nodded. Tomo, who had been counting on more downtime before the negotiations proper, waited like a priest performing a Christian wedding, hoping someone would make an objection.

* * *

Once away from the others, Sorchek's stern demeanor relaxed the slightest degree. He was clearly charmed, however little, by his guide; Chiyo's lack of height being directly propionate to her desire to be of help in any way. After brushing off several pleasantries, he gave an answer of sorts to a question of sorts:

"I'm surprised the Romulans would be willing to withhold their own security force."

"That was my condition," said Sorchek, whose obvious suppression of emotion caused him to sound less human than Osaka. "Now the ground is even. The Romulans have their ship, and we have our men here."

They walked for some time in silence. When Chiyo spoke next, it was in that same precociously careful tone in which she had questioned Yomi about Tomo:

"Does Ambassador Kurosawa really think the Romulans can be trusted?"

Sorchek's reply was immediate: "I am no longer certain I trust the Ambassador's judgment."

Peering at him from the corner of her eye, Chiyo asked: "Mister Sorchek…how long has the Ambassador had that beard?"

"Four days," he said.

Then again, there was no sound for a minute but the militant rap of the Vulcan's boots. They entered the turbolift.

"Deck nine," said Chiyo, still glancing at Sorchek.

With the turbolift in motion, he relaxed still further and spoke of his own volition: "As you must know, Vulcan is a peaceful world. Thus, men like me who devote their lives to combat and the service of the state, must be on our guard against the slightest irregularity. If trouble comes…we are our people's first and only line of defense against a chaos they no longer posses the means to comprehend, let alone fight. Perhaps I am simply being what you humans would call paranoid."

Chiyo slowly shook her head.

"I don't think that at all, Mister Sorchek."

He nodded.

"Then you are wise for your years.—Forgive me, but you seem young for a human. You also, with your emotional perspective, find the Ambassador's behavior strange?"

Chiyo gave a nod so slight she might have been shivering.

"I see."

"Mister Sorchek…if the Romulans and Vulcans could resolve their differences, that would be wonderful. But something about this feels very…very wrong."

"Agreed.—Do not fear, little one, I am a master of the martial art of _suss mahn_ and, if I may say so, an infallible marksman. I can handle any Romulan threat, and that is a logical judgment. But tell me—I know your ship's crew is recently assembled. Do you have confidence in your Captain's ability to handle this situation?"

Chiyo hesitated—so long, in fact, that the turbolift arrived at its destination, and they trouped off without a word. It was not until they stopped outside the quarters set aside for the Vulcans that she said: "Captain Takino is…an original person."

Sorchek turned to face her.

"Little one," he said. "If you discover anything more out of the ordinary, I wish you to report it directly to me. Do you understand?"

"I understand."

"Thank you. We may not have much time. Who knows why the Ambassador was so eager to convene the negotiations…and what they might be negotiating."

* * *

"Captain Takino," said Ambassador Kurosawa, leaning over the conference table in a manner unusually eager for a Vulcan, "you have been briefed on the nature of our territorial dispute, I trust."

"Of course," said Tomo, nodding. "Absolutely. Miss Sakaki, if you would, um, tell the Ambassadors all about what I am totally familiar with."

The wall console in the conference room now displayed a map of Vulcan space. With the press of a button, Sakaki zoomed in on sector seven, along the Romulan border.

"This is the dwarf planet designated by the Japanese Federation as Five-Five-Theta-Ex, claimed by both the Vulcan and Romulan governments following the Federation-Romulan nonaggression accord. Uninhabitable, it has no known tactical or economic value…and as such, its disputed status had endured until the present day."

Tomo was lightly applauding.

"He-ey, you're pretty good at this!"

Sakaki colored slightly. "Thank you, Captain.—But in any case, several weeks ago, the nearest Vulcan science station detected a subspace anomaly in orbit of Five-Five-Theta-Ex. The source of this anomaly has yet to be determined; but upon investigation, Vulcan ships detected energy traces suggestive of one or more cloaked ships."

"A lie," said Ambassador Tanizaki, with confidence, slouched back in her chair.

"As I was about to say," stressed Sakaki, "upon the voicing of these suspicions, the Romulan government accused Vulcan of warmongering and seeking to formalize Vulcan ownership of the dwarf planet. The Romulan Senate denies any recent activity along the Vulcan border. Now the Romulans are demanding Vulcan concessions as repayment for this insult. "

"Thank you, Miss…Sakaki," said Ambassador Kurosawa, with the air of a bored guest at a cocktail party. "That is more than sufficient."

"So-o," said Tomo. "Then I guess one of you is willing to fess up to making a mistake? Y'know, 'my bad,' 'water under the bridge,' let's just get on with our lives…?"

"Correct," said Kurosawa. "And that would be us."

Ambassador Tanizaki was beaming.

Tomo blinked.

"Huh?"

"The government of Vulcan," said Kurosawa, unflappably, "was unaware of a covert operation, conducted by our military, to create a fleet of cloaked ships to expand our claim on Romulan territory. Naturally, once discovered, the program was terminated. Now our only wish is to make amends of some sort to our Romulan brothers…to demonstrate our goodwill."

"Amends," said Tomo. "Huh. Like, how exactly."

Kurosawa spread her hands.

"The ceding of a large amount of territory," she said, "along the Neutral Zone, that belongs to Romulus by right…that we held onto in our illogical pride."

"Yep, yep," said Tanizaki. "Listen to what the lady says."

"Uh-huh," said Tomo. She nodded several times. She looked to Sakaki—but her Counselor conveyed a decorous bafflement. "Now…" Tomo looked first to Kurosawa, then to Tanizaki. "Just to be sure about this. It's not that like, you're getting along now, so you Vulcans suddenly discovered humor and decided to mess with me."

"Why Captain," said Kurosawa, and smiled. "Do you really find it so unlikely that Vulcan and Romulus would see eye-to-eye in one instance, that you prefer any other explanation…no matter how improbable?"

"Well. Frankly, yeah. Uhp, didn't mean to say that either. But seriously. You guys have a centuries-old rivalry on the basis that one of you loves logic, and one of you has forehead-veins and the other doesn't. Now like overnight, all that's thrown out the window."

Tomo looked from one to the other. But even Ambassador Tanizaki, who had the social deftness of a Klingon conch snail, showed no sign of bluffing. No one registered the slightest grounds for her reluctance—except for Sakaki; but she was an empath and registered everything.

"I need more time to think this over," she said.

Sakaki nodded.

"You mistrust us," said Kurosawa.

"N-no! No, the Federation totally trusts everybody. It's just the red space-tape and all, you know how it is. I'll have to talk this over with my superiors. Before I sign off on this deal."

"I find that only logical. By all means…take what time you need."

* * *

A darkened room. A single shaft of light, illuminating a motionless female humanoid.

"Special Agent Osaka," came a voice from the darkness.

"Commander."

"Report on your status."

"Combat protocols," reported the figure, "operating at one hundred fifty percent efficiency."

"Glad to hear it.—There has been a change of plans. One of our agents has been compromised, and the success of the operation hangs in the balance."

"Yes, Commander."

"Initiate program Alpha-Thanatos-Nightbird. Immediately."

"Yes, Commander." And the eyes of the humanoid, calm and unassuming, snapped open.

"They will never see me coming," she said.


	7. Proof of a Vulcan

Note:_ I meant this to be a part of the previous chapter, but everything took longer than I expected so I decided to break it up. This means you guys get three chapters in a row--yesterday, today and tomorrow (probably)! Lucky you. Make it so, Incanto out_

* * *

_Captain's Log, Koyomi Mizuhara, Stardate Unknown_

_As I had begun to suspect—and contrary to what I was told at first—the J.I.S. Hideki Tojo is currently holding position. If we were in fact on course to negotiate the surrender of alterna-Vulcan to alterna-Romulus (I've invented the nomenclature for convenience's sake), that conquest has been delayed…in favor of the conquest of all known space. _

_I have searched and exhausted every option. I am powerless to stop the Tojo's incursion into my own universe; war is the certain outcome, and Federation defeat overwhelmingly likely. Exploration for these people is synonymous with warfare. The Ryouma—the Federation's _flagship_—is equipped with twelve phaser banks and three photon torpedo launchers. The Tojo has nearly twice that complement; it's a flying weapons platform. I doubt our hydroponics lab and cocktail lounge will be of much help. But even should the Federation somehow be victorious, it will be the most costly war in all human history._

_I have yet to learn the actual location of the dimensional rift, and if it's large enough for the Tojo itself, or even a fleet of warships, to pass through. I do have alterna-Sakaki's word that I'll be "seeing my friends very soon." My only hope is that if I can rendezvous with my crewmates, I can alert Starfleet Command in time…_

_Wait, why am I recording all this in the damn Captain's Log where my captors can read it at their convenience? I guess I've liked making journals and stuff ever since I was a kid. Not that it matters, since alterna-Sakaki, unlike ours, is a full-blooded betazoid—and a full telepath. I'm sure she's anticipated my every move. Still, better safe than sorry, computer terminate log entry_

* * *

Yomi exhaled and leaned back in her chair. This could only be achieved by slouching down. Chairs on the J.I.S. Tojo didn't recline; in fact, nothing seemed designed with any thought toward comfort. She found herself looking across the desk at the display of weapons on her wall.

It was as if Sakaki's will permeated the whole ship. Although she was free to move around as she pleased, the room itself was like a psychic jail cell, every object causing pain to her eyes, ears or body by its pure alien nature.

The door chime sounded.

"Come."

It was Chiyo-chan. Or rather, the Romulan alterna-Chiyo, whom she suspected was not addressed as _chan_. The girl stood in the doorway like a post.

"Lt. Mihama," she sighed, "at ease."

She supposed most of the crew was in on Sakaki's game; but they continued to treat her as Captain. If Sakaki really hoped she would grow more used to her newfound power, it was, in fact, getting more unbearable by the hour. She had not left her quarters since midday to avoid the pain of being saluted.

"Sit," she said, waving her hand at another comfortless chair.

Chiyo sat rigidly, knees together, back straight. But just as before, there was a good deal of the familiar; in this case the shy hesitation the much younger girl (and alterna-Chiyo seemed just as young) displayed around her elders.

"Well?" snapped Yomi. "Out with it."

But the girl responded just as her own would—by shrinking further down in her seat.

Well. As Sakaki said, there was really no point in keeping up the charade, was there? "Look, would you like some tea or something?"

"Y-yes. Thank you very much."

"Computer, tea, sencha.—There you are. Now…are you _sure_ you're not my Chiyo-chan?"

The hope briefly flashed that her chief engineer had manipulated negative quarks or something to follow her to this dimension—but if that were the case, she wished they had sent Kagura instead.

"Then it's true?" said Chiyo, whose speech had, after all, a touch more gravity. "You're not from…here?"

Yomi nodded.

"If you want to know about the place I'm from…just imagine everything the opposite of here. We explore planets, we don't conquer them; we're allied with the Vulcans, not the Romulans; Sakaki is gentle and caring but animals are afraid of her; Osaka mainly translates things. She certainly doesn't kill people."

"Then it's just as Commander Sakaki said."

"I'm afraid so.—You know what, I think I'll have some tea too."

For a time, there was only the sound of sipping; and Chiyo made her sound coarse in comparison. Just like always.

"The thing is," she finally got out, "well…_you're_ pretty much the same. Except you're Romulan, not human."

Chiyo squirmed a little in her seat.

"Why is that?" Yomi pressed, guessing she wanted to say something. "Nevermind that you're not like any Romulan I've met…you don't seem the type to get assigned to a ship like this."

"I was assigned for my technical abilities. I can construct devices that amplify Commander Sakaki's powers, creating a net that allows her to monitor the entire ship. That—and bombs, and guns, and other surveillance devices."

"But you don't sound like you enjoy those duties. In fact, you sound like you hate weapons."

A long silence.

Chiyo looked into her eyes.

"Miss Yomi," she said, "I'm about to tell you something that endangers my life…and all free people in the universe. Our universe, I mean."

"If you're afraid," Yomi said quickly, placing a hand on her arm, "don't tell me anything. Nothing's more important than your own conscience."

But her eyes betrayed her.

Chiyo began on a seemingly irrelevant note:

"Miss Yomi, you're a Vulcan, aren't you? I mean actually."

"That's right."

"You've probably guessed—but that stuff on your face is surgical makeup. You've also been given an implant that causes you to scan as Romulan. _Our_ Yomi is Romulan…and she was given a corresponding treatment before we sent her through, to make her appear Vulcan."

"Then it's true," to which Yomi added a word she would never have uttered in front of her own Chiyo. "There's an alterna-me walking around _my_ ship as we speak."

"Yes. But Miss Yomi…" and Chiyo prodded the Romulan veins on her forehead. "I'm not Romulan either."

"You don't mean…"

"I am Commander Chiyo Mihama," she said, "of the Vulcan security forces. It took all our resources, six years of my life, to place me here…and I received this posting just in time. The last of the Vulcan military has been wiped out. My superiors and comrades are all dead. I am Vulcan's last hope."

"But can't Sakaki tell—!"

"You know that Vulcans have limited telepathic abilities. I've been able to block my mind against her so far—but she's getting suspicious. Now's the time to act. But I have so much to tell you…!"

"Slow down. Take it one thing at a time."

"But there's only one thing that's important, isn't there. Until I met you, I had no plan, no way to proceed. But if your Empire has the principles you say it has—!"

"Actually we call it the Federation…"

"Yes, yes of course.—Then you must realize what threat the Empire poses to both our worlds. If even the crew of this ship, the Empire's elite, could be stopped, it would give hope to resistance movements everywhere…"

"Wait," said Yomi. She sat back.

Her expression was one of considerable suffering. So wanted so badly, after all, to believe the best news she had received since being assigned to the Ryouma. Nonetheless she said: "Lt. Mihama. It took a great deal of bravery to tell me everything you've just told me…if it's all true. But. In good conscience, I have to ask. How…how _do_ I know it's all true?"

At that moment, any sign of anger or pain from Chiyo, the only person in this universe there was any chance she could trust, would have destroyed her. But rather the girl looked, all of a sudden, full of confidence and purpose.

"There is a way," she said, and raised both her hands, her soft fingertips extended.

"You mean…"

"Yes. The mind-meld."

All at once, Yomi turned bright red.

"What's the matter?" said Chiyo. "It is the same in your world, isn't it?"

"Yes, but…well, that is to say…" and as bashful as a schoolgirl, Yomi all but whispered: "I've never done it before."

"Never!"

"I was raised by humans. It's a long story."

A long story, indeed. How a transport ship had been attacked by rogue Romulan slavers, xenophobes so extreme even the Tal Shiar repudiated them. How after a rescue by Federation vessels—sadly belated—the only surviving Vulcan, a girl of six, had been adopted by the only surviving humans: a middle-aged Terran couple with the family name of Mizuhara.

"But to know another mind is such a profound experience," said Chiyo.

"I'd, I'd like to. I'm just not sure I'm ready."

"We have no choice! Unless you're willing to take my word. But I understand your reservations, anything less would be foolish…"

Then, absurdly, Yomi thought of Tomo. Tomo in their primary school days, before the element of rivalry had come to the fore of their—oh, why not call a spade a spade—friendship. Tomo, who called the nerve pinch (which Yomi also had no idea how to perform) the "Vulcan death grip," and used it to threaten her own enemies. And one afternoon when Tomo insisted they perform a mind-meld. Of course, as usual, she got her way. For all she had griped, Yomi had wondered if it would work. Was it something that came naturally—but after a long moment that was, at least for her, agonizing, nothing happened. For Tomo is was another diversion, quickly passed over. The memory remained with her much longer. Though now she wondered if Tomo did remember. Later she would learn that young Vulcans only learned to perform it by melding with other Vulcans.

"Alright," she said, "alright—I'll do it. Just…be gentle, okay?"

"It would be a dangerous for a non-Vulcan," said Chiyo, now even with a note of tenderness as if, nightmare that her own life was, she truly pitied a Vulcan who had never experienced the meld, "you should have nothing to worry about," and without another word, she put her small hands on either side of Yomi's face.

And they sat still, in relative darkness, in silence.

Yomi had no idea how long it lasted. When Chiyo drew her hands away, both their eyes were moist. As it turned out, for quite different reasons.

"I'm sorry," said Yomi, roughly. "I had no idea it was so bad. I mean I knew—but I didn't _know_."

While Chiyo began at nearly the same time: "Your world is so beautiful. Everyone is so happy. But, you must know that."

Yomi shook her head. "I'm not sure I did, until now."

"Then you understand?"

"Yes. I understand everything. What should I do?"

She had sensed only Chiyo's ironclad determination to resist the Empire. Of plans—and she had admitted, after all, there had been none until just now—there was nothing.

"Miss Yomi, please listen carefully. I said that I designed Commander Sakaki's security net. I fed a program into the sensors that shows you here, in your quarters, mourning the inevitable death of your comrades," and she gave a bitter smile. "She'll like that."

"You mean you did that already?—But you weren't even sure you could trust me."

"What choice did I have?"

"Alright. Tell me how long I've got."

"Two hours…unless she figures it out. Then there's nothing either of us can do."

"I get it. What should I do with that time?"

"Go to the brig. The guard will let you pass; we've all been instructed to play along. There's a forcefield blocking the priority cells—I can disable it. Go to cell C-4. There is a woman there who can help you…or rather, you can help each other."

Yomi, on an impulse that had never gripped her before, and hardly would ever again, gripped Chiyo's hand.

"Thank you. I'll never forget this. We'll both get out of here…"

Chiyo, smiling, was shaking her head.

"Logically speaking, that is unlikely. I have resolved to oppose the Empire in any way possible. If my death can hinder it, I have resolved to make that sacrifice. If worse comes to worse…I can engineer a warp core breach. It would kill at least some of the personnel aboard this ship…myself, likely included."

"Not until it's absolutely necessary," said Yomi. "Promise me that."

"Miss Yomi. I find it very difficult to promise anything."

* * *

Another Romulan, in that awful parody of a Starfleet uniform, stood guard outside the brig. The alliance must go back some time to have so many Romulans aboard, Yomi reflected—but now was no time to be playing amateur sociologist. His look was skeptical; he must be in on the charade, if her personal lackey wasn't.

"Pardon me, Captain, but what business have you here? Surely there are more important matters…"

Yomi stared at him. After a moment, he winced.

"I beg _your_ pardon, nameless crewman. Unless you want to be thrown out the nearest airlock, you will not question Captain's business. Do I make myself understood?"

He lowered his eyes.

"Yes. Perfectly."

"Good. Go back to standing there like the wooden post you are, and speak accordingly."

As the heavy brig doors shut behind her, she reflected that after all, there was a part of her that took to this world.

The brig aboard the Ryouma, with its modest eight holding cells, resembled a residential corridor with the doors replaced by transparent forcefields. Privacy, and a few square feet of living space, were all the prisoners had to sacrifice. The cells aboard the Tojo were sealed off by menacing-looking blast doors, and she had no wish to know what lay behind any except C-4.

The cells designated "C" lay along a narrow, crooked hallway, and as she passed down it, Yomi guessed the inoperative forcefield had blocked the entrance. Now that alterna-Chiyo was out of sight, she feared for her safety as much—if not more, she seemed so much more real—as the crew of the Ryouma, who already felt like a dream toward which she had the instinctive feelings only present in dreams. But contacting her was out of the question; the comm activity would draw alterna-Sakaki's notice.

"Computer, open cell C-4, Captain's authorization."

Presumably, all her voice commands could be overwritten by Sakaki's. Still in this case, they served their purpose.

The doors ground open very slowly. Behind them, she caught the telltale shimmer of another forcefield. Then behind it, as the little available light seeped in, she saw a figure huddled in a wretched cell no larger than a maintenance closet aboard the Ryouma.

No—fully exposed to view, the figure was not huddled. The Vulcan woman sat on the edge of a metal cot in a dignified posture, meditating, her eyes shut. She did not open them until the blast doors were fully opened, and Yomi stood before her.

"Ah," she said, in a voice faint, broken, but still maintaining the form of politeness. "'Captain' Mizuhara. You have returned."

But her eyes were weak from confinement in darkness; otherwise she might have noticed that Yomi was staring at her in a manner hardly that of a captor.

"Ambassador…Kurosawa?"

"You address me by my name this time? How courteous of you,"—but even as she spoke, the cold sarcasm of her tone faded and she leaned forward, trying to make out Yomi against the sudden light.

"Ambassador Kurosawa!" Yomi spoke now in a loud hiss. "It's me—the _real_ Koyomi Mizuhara! The one you spoke to before!"

Even imprisoned—and, now that Yomi surveyed her, sadly emaciated—a Vulcan could convey a staggeringly matter-of-fact skepticism.

"First Officer Mizuhara of the starship Ryouma…how is that possible? This is highly illogical."

"How is _any_ of this possible?—Don't worry about that right now, we need to get off this ship!"

"I have had more than enough of your tricks. I prefer to await death here, in peace and solitude."

"Oh for crying out—c'mere, and let's do the mind-meld thing already."

"Mind-meld? But you are Romulan. My own eyes do not deceive me."

Well, thought Yomi. She was doing much what she had expected a few days ago. Conspiring with Chiyo-chan against a common enemy, and dealing with formidable bureaucrats.

But it wasn't proceeding quite as she had expected.


	8. O is for Obliteration

Note: _Violence warning. I'll try to keep it Teen, but really, it's so rare that a certain someone gets to cut loose. Make it so, Incanto out_

* * *

This time, Ensign Fukuda knocked.

"C-Captain Takino?"

Tomo looked relieved.

"Co-ome. What's up, Kaorin?"

"Ah, delightful," said Kurosawa. "Is this your errand girl with tea and cakes? Or have you found some other, more creative way to stall the negotiations you claimed to be here to facilitate?"

But no one could have taken this for any but the most malicious humor. Ensign Fukuda stood there, white-faced and shaking, and burst out:

"Captain, weapons fire on deck nine! It's not an energy weapon though."

"Huh? I thought _all_ weapons were energy weapons. Is some kid shooting off a pop-gun?"

"I don't know, Captain, it's an unknown signature."

Sakaki touched Tomo's shoulder.

"Sir, the Vulcan security team is quartered on deck nine."

In the coup-de-grace of strangeness, Kurosawa was unfazed. Rather, Ambassador Tanizaki sat upright and shouted:

"I _knew_ it! Those damn flat-foreheaded Vulcans!"

"Ambassador," said Sakaki firmly, "please control yourself. Vulcans don't even lie."

"Well sure, they _say_ they don't…"

Tomo stood up. "Let's go check it out."

Kaorin gawked at her.

"What—in _person_?"

"Totally. And it's not because I want to get out of these re-eally awkward negotiations, no sir. Sakaki?"

"Miss Sakaki, no! Abandon ship and save yourself—!" Kaorin let out, before clamping both hands over her mouth.

"Hmm? What was that, Ensign?"

"N-nothing, sir. Only that Miss Sakaki's, ah, talents don't seem suited to…"

"Eh, you're right. I'd better take Indestructible Plastic Girl instead. Sakaki-chan, you've got the bridge; keep our guests up here. It'll be guarded anyway, so it's the safest place on the ship. Ensign? Go to Yellow Alert."

"Sir."

When she went out, Tomo tapped her badge.

"Captain to Kagura. Are you one hundred percent sure nothing's wrong down there?"

"Nothing, why?"

"We got a situation on deck nine, probably the Vulcans. Send a team to meet us there, and have the rest of your guys comb the ship. But you stay put—and go in the room with her. She's sure as hell not taking a step _now_."

"Captain! I'll leave a security detail here, let me go with you…"

"That's an order, Lieutenant. I need to know I can count on you. Can I?"

"…Aye, Captain."

Meanwhile, klaxons began to sound and the room was filled with strobing yellow light.

"Yellow alert, yellow alert," blared the computer, "all hands remain at your posts. All security personnel, report to your stations."

Sakaki was looking at Kurosawa.

"Ambassador," she said, "your men might be hurt. You seem awfully calm."

Kurosawa looked back.

"They were aware of the risks when they took the job," she said.

* * *

Tomo came sprinting down the corridor, sensibly in the lead and exposed to enemy fire, while Osaka followed. While the android was incapable of fear, she had composed her face to look appropriately serious—or as near as she was capable. The sight of the captain running past like a decapitated chicken, of course, did little to reassure the crew members who stood by in nervous agitation as they passed.

Two male security officers stood outside the Vulcans' quarters. Two rooms for two men. Each of the doors had been punctured, in two places, by a small object with incredible force, that had almost knocked the panels themselves out of their frames.

The senior officer met her: "Captain, thank goodness you're here! Three of them are dead; one's badly hurt."

"D-dead? Like, as in, not alive?"

"_Oh my God_!" said Osaka, and Tomo elbowed her.

"My apologies, Captain, I was trying to express the emotion of—"

"Yeah, well, save it. Ensign, what could kill four guys so badass that Vulcan trusted them with an Ambassador's _life_ aboard a Romulan warship?"

"I don't know, sir."

"Is the survivor in sick bay?"

"Still in there. The doctor is with him; says there's nothing we can do. He wants to speak with you, Captain."

The other man added: "Lt. Mihama is in there as well, sir. She was present during the attack.."

"Chiyo-chan—!"

"Don't worry, she's unharmed. Only four bullets were fired."

"Wa-ait…wait-wait-wait. _Bullets_. Like, from a twentieth-century pistol."

The second security officer pointed, wordlessly, at the opposite wall. For the first time, Tomo turned to look. There were four perfect holes, punched outward, perfectly corresponding to those in the doors.

"That…is one very large pistol.—Alright, open the door. Let's hear what the poor guy has to say."

* * *

One Vulcan had been stretched out on a bed, and the white sheet, already stained half red, drawn over his body. The survivor crouched against the wall, the shafts of light from the enormous bullet holes cutting past his chest and face; a trickle of blood ran from between his motionless lips, and he clutched his stomach. Chiyo knelt by him, dabbing at his forehead with a damp, replicated handkerchief. She was crying freely.

"Mister Sorchek, please, pull it together! It's going to be alright!"

But while the man put up with these attentions, he remained silent, clearly saving his energy. When the Captain entered he raised his head.

"Cabtain Tagino…" sobbed Chiyo.

The medical ensign was preparing a hypospray at the table.

"It's true?" said Tomo. "You can't…"

Avoiding her eyes, the ensign nodded.

"I'll give him this," he said, and applied the hypospray to the dying Vulcan's neck. "It'll dull the pain until…"

And Sorchek whispered: "Thank you."

"Yeah," said Tomo weakly. "Thanks.—Dismissed."

The ensign went out, and Tomo knelt down beside Chiyo. The eyes of the Vulcan secret agent resembled two slowly dimming bulbs, that flared up again as they met Tomo's.

"Captain," he said, in the same faint but even voice, "I have slowed my metabolism to prolong life by a few minutes…no more. Please listen carefully. I do not believe the Romulans are responsible for this attack…this is like no weapon in their arsenal. Something far more serious…has gone wrong. It is up to you to stop it. Do not let my death and that of my comrades be in vain. Trust no one…not even…_especially_ not the Ambassador. She is no longer the woman I knew."

Chiyo, trying gamely to be silent so that he could speak, was applying the handkerchief to her own face.

Tomo nodded.

Then Sorchek, keeping one arm clamped over his wound, slowly raised the other, and brushed one side of Tomo's face with his fingertips. She scooted back.

"Wo-oah, _bad_ touch! Look I know you're dying and all, and I'm _really_ sorry, it's nothing personal, but there's rules about this kind of thing…"

Sorchek looked genuinely annoyed. "Calm yourself…Captain…I simply brushed your mind with mine."

"That kinda sounds even gross—"

Ignoring her, he struggled on: "This assassin is a powerful being. You will need all your strength to defeat them…and even that may not be enough…Captain Takino, you have great emotional resilience. It is a risk…but if you accept…I will give you my _katra_."

"Your whosit?"

"You might…crudely…call it my soul. A part of me will live on in you…as will my combat skills."

"You mean you'll do the thing with the hands?"

"Yes."

"And," said Tomo, obviously trying, with belated tact, to conceal her enthusiasm, "I'll be able to do the deathgrip? I mean nerve pinch."

"Yes."

"I accept."

"Captain," said Osaka, startling both of them, "it is my duty to warn you there is an eleven percent chance you will go dangerously insane."

"Lieutenant, was that your protocol to set up my dramatic lines? Because if so…" and she swept her hair back and said in a deep voice: "That's a risk I'm willing to take.—Let's do this thing."

With great effort, and taking the arm away from his wound, Sorchek lifted his hands—one of them bloodstained—and grasped Tomo's head firmly. She shut her eyes, but didn't start away.

"My mind…into yours," he said.

Chiyo watched, her tears dried, awestruck. After a moment Tomo began to tremble. Her breathing deepened. Soon she was shaking almost too severely for Sorchek to hold her.

"Are you alright!" yelped Chiyo—but at that moment, Sorchek drew back his hands. His eyes opened.

"It is finished," he said, "I have done my duty," and he collapsed to one side.

"Mister Sorchek!"

"He's dead," whispered Tomo, still on her knees, "I can feel it…I can feel everything about him. He's dead—but he's not gone."

Without waiting for a command, Osaka lifted the body, as if it weighed nothing more than a sack of feathers, placed it on the other bed, and drew the sheet over it.

Tomo rose to her feet. She carried herself, now, with a poise Chiyo had never seen before.

"Lieutenant—" she began.

Her communicator sounded.

"Kagura here! We've traced the line of fire to a maintenance bulkhead. They must've been using a railgun with some crazy x-ray sight—it punched through _three_ solid walls! See, the structure was designed with energy dampening in mind; we never figured on something like this."

"Any sign of them?"

"Scans detect no foreign life signs onboard."

"So what you're saying is…we have an invisible intruder who could, until we find him, literally kill any one of us at any moment?"

Kagura was silent.

"Understood. Thanks, Lieutenant."

"Sir, _please_ allow me to join—"

"You have your orders.—Hang on, the Bridge is calling. Takino out.—Alright, Sakaki, what is it?"

"Weapons fire on deck eleven, two injuries. Our communications array is down, sir."

"What—aw, _man_! Get security down there right away!"

"They are, sir, they found nothing, he or she—or _it_ is gone…"

Then as Chiyo listened in terror, her own communicator buzzed. "Lt. Mihama, intruder in Engineering! I've blocked the blast doors but something's trying to force—"

"Evacuate!" gasped Chiyo. "Get everyone out of there right away!"

Tomo nodded. To her communicator she said: "Sakaki, go to Red Alert. I want all nonessential personnel evacuated, repeat, _all_; shuttles for the nearest starbase. Keep both Ambassadors right where they are."

"Yes, sir."

"Takino out." Then, visibly shaking once again, she turned to Chiyo and Osaka. "Men? Um—girls? Here's the plan. We're proceeding under the assumption of _one_ intruder, of unknown capabilities. But there could be way more. Chiyo, stay here and keep your head low. Osaka and I will go to Main Engineering, try and head them off.

"If we don't succeed…I know it's only been, like, a week. But it's been an honor serving with you."

Chiyo saluted. To Osaka Tomo said:

"I know this is a stupid question even before I ask it. But have you got, y'know, any _combat_ protocols? Karate, or maybe you can rip off your foot and use it like a bomb?"

The android stared at her.

"I'm good at, like…arm wrestling and stuff," she said. Then, after a pause, added: "Sorry. I lied."

* * *

As they strode down the corridor Osaka asked: "Captain, are you entirely certain we should not bring Lieutenant Kagura with us? There is a high probability of encountering the intruder in Main Engineering."

"Osaka, you know if we started letting Kagura have her way, she'd beam over to the Romulans and attack _them_ on the suspicion they started this thing. This is about protecting the entire ship, not taking down the intruder all heroically." Though she added, barely audible: "Unless _I'm_ the one to take them down all heroically.—Speaking of which, though," and she glanced back at the former pair of security officers, who now followed them. "You ah, yellowshirt guys? You're totally cool with this, even though you know we might die?"

One of the men, bald, with a faint blue triangle mark on his forehead, replied: "I belong to a species with no sense of individuality, Captain. The concept you call 'death' has no meaning for us."

The other, crew-cut, said: "I'm human, sir; but my obscure religion has a sophisticated concept of the afterlife, and considers mortal existence a curse from the gods."

"Oh. Alrighty then. Yeah."

The alien said rather gently: "It's alright, Captain, I can see you're reluctant to ask our names. It will make things easier if you don't."

"I'm with you there," said the human.

"So what, I should I just call you yellowshirts A and B?"

"Yes, sir."

"No problem here."

For a moment they walked in silence.

"And Osaka?" said Tomo. "Seriously, thanks for not taking the opportunity to ask why humans fear death and what happens after we—_oh_ man wouldja look at that. Wow"

The thick blast door partitioning off Main Engineering was held in place by four clamps. Or had been; but the clamps were blown out by impacts like those they had seen on deck nine, and the panel had been pushed back by something stronger than any known humanoid.

"Here goes," said Tomo. "Phasers set to kill. We're not taking any chances."

"But sir," said Yellowshirt A, "if we fire in engineering…"

"Yeah, yeah, we might hit the warp core or the tubes with the flesh-melting gas. So try your best _not_ to do that, 'kay?"

"Sir."

"On the count of three. One…two…!"

They rushed in—to find the long Control Room empty.

"Shit," said Tomo.

"Captain, back there!"

A petite female humanoid, moving so discreetly as to escape notice, stood at one of the tertiary consoles around the warp core itself, her back to them.

"Hey," called Tomo, "you there! Didn't you hear Lt. Mihama? It isn't safe, now get…out…of…"

As the girl stepped away from the console, moving into the blue glow from the core, Tomo noticed the gigantic rifle-like weapon strapped to her back—invisible before, only because it was nearly as long as the girl was tall, and painted the same black as the jumpsuit she wore. Then when she turned, they all noticed something just as alarming.

"Osaka," said Tomo. "But you're…" she swiveled her head, "over here, but…you look just like…"

"You know this unit's designation," said the Osaka who was not Osaka.

Tomo fell back and screeched in terror: "And you speak _standard Japanese_! You're like—some—evil, twisted, totally messed-up version of Osaka. I'm gonna call you…Kobe!"

"Captain," said Yellowshirt B, frowningly, "that's uncalled for."

"Yes," chimed in the other. "Kobe's not the most exciting place, but it's pretty nice once you get to know it."

"I lived there when I visited earth."

"My brother's in-laws are from there."

"It has a rich cultural heritage as well," added Osaka. "As one of Japan's three 'treaty ports' during the Tokugawa period, it was instrumental in…"

"Well yeah, but. It's full of foreigners. Don't get me wrong, foreigners are okay. I just find them kind of icky personally."

"Captain, you serve on a starship. A third of your bridge crew is _alien_."

"But the other two-third is Japanese!"

Ignoring all this, Kobe spoke in her flat voice: "Your main engine is now offline, and offship communications are disabled. My mission is complete. However, my mission parameters require me to terminate you for having identified me. Drop your weapons and I will do so in a relatively painless manner. Resistance is futile."

"Oh, yeah? You're pretty cocky for being outnumbered four-to-one. Well, you're about to find out what happens when you mess with the captain of the J.F.S. Sakamoto Ryouma."

"Firing in my direction," said Kobe matter-of-factly, "would be illogical, as the resulting warp core breach could destroy your entire vessel."

"Then I guess the question is," said Tomo, narrowing her eyes as she sighted along her phaser, "from what you've seen of me so far…just how logical do you think I am?"

The android appeared to be thinking.

Then she said: "Noted," and began to move—and so did Tomo.

His _katra_, Sorchek had said. Years of combat experience from a veteran soldier. It wasn't as if Tomo all at once had access to a library of tactics. But in the short time since the mind meld it had seemed, at moments, she was thinking twice as fast. Or rather that two thoughts moved through her mind simultaneously. As she realized Kobe was reaching with both hands for the railgun holstered across her back, a familiar part of her brain registered _uh-oh_; while another knew, to a certainty, the two seconds it would take to free the gun. And that the motion was only slow enough for her eye to follow because time itself had slowed down. Before she realized it, she was in midair; and as the familiar brain realized she had jumped, the other was directing her foot to slam full into Kobe's chest.

They collided and rolled across the floor and the railgun went spinning away. One second, that for Tomo felt like minutes; and in the second that followed, dazed, she realized that no matter what, Kobe was many times denser, heavier and stronger as the android gripped her with two hands like docking clamps. She heaved Tomo through the air, straight into a wall console, smashing the plastic screen and producing a belch of sparks.

One second, and Tomo was immobilized with pain, and could only watch what happened next.

Both yellowshirts and Osaka fired their phasers. All three red beams connected; they might have been laser pointers for all the damage they did. Kobe pulled a Romulan disruptor from her belt and fired, and Yellowshirt A disappeared in a burst of green light while the other two frantically dialed up their phasers. Kobe spun and leveled Yellowshirt B with a roundhouse kick. But as she pointed the disruptor at his prone body, Osaka spoke:

"My phaser is now set to maximum. One hit would disintegrate any object of your size, no matter what it was constructed from. Furthermore, it seems that with all the ruckus, you've moved so that your back is now to a bulkhead."

There might have been a hint—no more—of curiosity in Kobe's eyes; additional processors firing.

"You are a mechanical construct," she said, "like myself. Your analysis of the situation is thoroughly logical—within the limits of your knowledge. What you do not know is that I contain an explosive device, and that if more than forty percent of my body is destroyed by an energy discharge, it will detonate, vaporizing all matter within a twenty meter radius."

"I see." Then, after a moment's thought: "There's something you should know, too." Osaka narrowed her eyes and pronounced: "I'm not really left-handed."

Kobe slowly blinked.

"What do you mean?"

"That's a joke," said Osaka, "from an old Terran story."

"What is a _joke_?"

"That's right. You're a lot smarter and faster than me, probably because your brain is full of combat protocols. Mine is gummed up with things like jokes my captain taught me. But you probably wouldn't understand even if I explained it to you."

"Irrelevant. You are stalling in the hopes that your captain will regain the use of her body. Drop your weapon, and I will only destroy your memory cortex."

"Don't you want to hear just one more joke?"

"No."

"I'll surrender if you let me tell it."

Kobe paused. "Very well," she said.

"Knock, knock," said Osaka.

Silence.

"You will now say, 'who's there?'"

"Who is there?" said Kobe.

"Our chief security officer sneaking up behind you, about to cut off your head with a bat'leth."

"I do not understand. What is the purpose of this joke?"

"To create a thirty-second diversion," said Osaka, and Kagura screamed and swung the bat'leth.

A fountain of bright green sparks and Kobe's head shot into the air, struck the diagnostics console, bounced off the wall, and came to rest not far from where Tomo lay paralyzed.

Kagura rushed to her.

"Captain, are you alright!"

"I-I'm fine. Okay I lied, but I'll live. Go check on your guy there."

Yellowshirt B, the alien, didn't respond when Kagura shook him. She took a pulse.

"No good, he's gone.—Wait no, I forgot on this guy's species, the artery runs down the spine. He's good.—Sick bay, man down in engineering."

Kagura helped Tomo to her feet. They stood together, looking down at Kobe's severed head. Then they leapt back together and clutched each other when its eyes swiveled to focus on them. It spoke:

"I failed."

Then its eyes clicked shut.

"Eey-_ech_," spat Tomo, shivering. "Lt. Kagura, throw that…_head_ in the brig. Maybe Chiyo can mine it for info, but who knows, maybe her whole body can regenerate off it."

"Sir." She gathered up the head, grimacing, and wedged it under one arm. "And, Captain…I apologize for disobeying your orders. Our sensors registered the weapons fire. But that was no excuse—"

Tomo was mopping her forehead and the back of her neck. "Don't sweat it," she said. "Hey, Osaka! Guess I was wrong before. Breaking rules is okay if you have fun, save earth, or save _me_."

Osaka nodded with perfect seriousness.

"Understood."

"And one more thing…"

"Sir?"

"Thanks for saving me."


	9. We Have Met The Enemy and She is Us

Note: _Apologies for the delay; it's too hot where I am to do much of anything. But reviews do encourage me to write faster! Make it so, Incanto out_

* * *

Ambassador Kurosawa kept the seat usually occupied by Sakaki, both hands folded in her lap, as the dull red light played around the bridge. Tanizaki was pacing back and forth—in spite of the Security ensign's attempts to discourage her—behind the Tactical console. Sakaki, in the Captain's chair, had been observing Kurosawa in profile for some time. Finally the Ambassador looked around.

"Is something the matter, Counselor?"

Sakaki slowly shook her head.

"I was only reflecting, again, on your remarkable presence of mind. Your men are dead, and the ship is facing a critical threat of unknown nature…"

"What, pray tell, ought I to do—panic? Cry? That would be rather illogical. Or have you forgotten I'm Vulcan?"

"On the contrary, Ambassador," said Sakaki. "You've taken great pains to remind us."

Kurosawa displayed the shade of a smirk.

"It would seem the temporary authority has gone to your head…You almost remind me of someone else I know. But I'm afraid the hunch of a Betazoid is worth precious little."

"Officially speaking, yes. But if I find out you are endangering this ship…"

The Security ensign suddenly called: "Miss Sakaki, weapons fire in main engineering!"

"Sakaki to Lt. Kagura, come in please.—Yes. Please proceed to main engineering."

"I _know_ but… Cap'n Wildcat said to stay put. I mean she was pretty insistent about it."

"What does it matter, she might be hurt! I will take responsibility."

"Well—alright. Kagura out."

Leaning back, Sakaki took several deep breaths. Tall as she was, the Captain's chair seemed a great deal too large for her. Kurosawa had gone back to idly contemplating the empty viewscreen. Sakaki took up with new force:

"You know more about this situation than you are letting on."

"My dear woman, if you are seriously going to accuse me of anything…"

"Ambassador Tanizaki is angry, confused, even frightened. You, on the other hand…"

"Do you seriously mean to suggest—that you trust _me_ less than this typical, small-minded Romulan bureaucrat?"

And she gave a covert nod at the Tanzaki; who was so engaged in her furious perambulation that she did not even register her name.

"Miss Tanizaki _is_ a typical Romulan," said Sakaki. "One can trust a Romulan to act in their own best interest. But your behavior defies all explanation."

They held each others' gaze for a long moment.

"Do not attempt anything rash, Sakaki," said Kurosawa. "You aren't a warrior. I can see it in your eyes."

Sakaki rose to her considerable height, towering over her opponent.

"Ensign Fukuda," she said, "restrain the Ambassador."

"Y-Yes, Miss Sakaki!"

Finally taking notice, Tanzaki blurted out: "Now that's more like it!"

Kurosawa kept her composure. She had the aspect of a woman accustomed to great power, exercising great restraint.

In a warmer, more natural tone she spoke: "Miss Sakaki, I assure you…"

Then the buzz of a communicator, concealed within her elaborate tunic. She clenched her eyes shut.

Tapping her breast she said: "Really, your timing _could_ have been better."

"No time, Praetor. We've lost contact with Agent Osaka; you're not longer safe."

Sakaki and Kaorin exchanged an alarmed look. Kaorin helplessly brandished her phaser; Kurosawa took no notice. "Osaka? Impossible," she hissed.

"We underestimated them. We won't make the same mistake twice. Now stand by to beam back."

Sakaki called to the Security ensign: "Shields up! Don't let her escape!"

But Kurosawa suddenly disappeared in a wash of green radiance.

The Security ensign swore. "Missed by a _nano_second."

"Sakaki to Captain, please come in…"

At that moment the turbolift door opened and Tomo sauntered out followed by Kagura and Osaka, looking nonchalant and, if anything, immensely pleased with herself.

"Sakaki-chan, cancel read alert. We got this problem well in hand." Then seeing the shocked faces assembled around her, she wilted. "Aw, what _now_?—Can we maybe just, y'know, pretend everything's okay now and…throw a party? No?"

Tanizaki was on her in a moment.

"I'll tell you what's happened! That shifty Vulcan just beamed back to her cloaked warship!"

"So you're saying we lost the Bearded Lady? And this is _not_ a good thing, like two birds with one stone?"

"She must be plotting to blow us apart as we speak!"

Sakaki stepped between them. "Captain—if I may. Vulcans don't use cloaking technology. On the other hand, the person who beamed the Ambassador—whoever she might really be—away, addressed her as _Praetor_…a Romulan title."

For a moment, Tanizaki looked, for all the world, as if only a fool might consider this suspicious. Finally realizing that all eyes were turned on her, she displayed an unheralded resolve, stood her ground and said: "Look, I'm not going anywhere. That so-and-so certainly didn't beam to _my_ ship. Run a scan of the area if you don't believe me."

"She's telling the truth," whispered Sakaki.

"Besides," put in Osaka, "known cloaking technology does not allow off-ship transportation."

This triggered Ensign Fukuda's memory, who pointed a finger at the android: "Sh-she said something about an agent Osaka!"

"Oh? O-oh," said Tomo, holding up her hands, "we can explain _that_, see, it's actually kind of a funny story…see, there was like this evil duplicate of Osaka…"

Sakaki shuddered. "Duplicate!"

"_Known_ cloaking technology though," muttered Tomo. To Ensign Fukuda she said: "Run a short-range scan. Look for any subspace anomalies."

"Wait," Sakaki was saying, "but that explains everything…the Ambassador not acting like herself, then Commander Mizuhara…"

"Sir," said the Ensign. "We're being hailed."

Ambassador Tanizaki held up her hands. "Hey, like I said, don't look at _me_!"

"It's not coming from the Hetaria," confirmed the Ensign.

The frantic conversation gave way all at once to silence, in which everyone seemed to draw a breath. More than one of the crew present had an abrupt sense of smallness; as though at that moment they were being observed by a vast, obscure, and probably unfriendly power.

"Keep scanning," said Tomo. "In the meantime—onscreen."

The screen seemed to become a mirror.

Sakaki staggered and sat back down; Ambassador Tanizaki caught herself on the railing. In a senseless reflex—so much was the image like a part of the room—Kagura drew her phaser.

As on the bridge of the Ryouma, Sakaki was seated in the captain's chair. Only she wore a strange high-collared uniform, and radiated malice.

"I am Commander Sakaki of the J.I.S. Hideki Tojo. I claim your vessel…" she paused, pushed back her bangs, "or rather, this star system…No. I claim this very _cosmos_ for the Japanese Empire."

All eyes but Ensign Fukuda's were riveted on the stranger. Now Kaorin turned from the console and announced:

"A Galaxy-class ship has dropped out of cloak seventy kilometers off our port bow. Its signature matches our own."

Conveniently, no one had followed Tomo's order to end red alert; and the shields were up. The Captain glanced around and, finding no counsel in the shocked faces around her, faced the Sakaki double.

"I got to warn you," she said, "diplomacy's not my strong suit. And this is the first time I ever had to deal with a hostile who looked like an evil duplicate of my own crew. Well I guess technically no, it's the second time. Anyway, I might be screwing the pooch on this one, but I'm gonna go with my gut…and say that everyone on this ship is prepared to die before surrendering to you!"

"Here, here!" said Kagura.

One corner of Sakaki's mouth curled up like the end of a heated piece of metal.

"I confess," she said, stroking the armrest of her chair, "I had only judged the Vulcans aboard your ship a threat. The rest of you seemed fit for nothing better than mine slaves. A warren of misfits and half-breeds…a floating preschool. But perhaps some of you—with sufficient re-conditioning—might serve us as warriors. Surrender immediately, and I will not have to destroy you. The rest of your contemptible Federation will be swept away before the Divine Wind."

"Um, lady,' said Tomo, "hate to break it to you, but we're in space. There's no wind."

"Insolence!—I had especially hoped to keep you alive, 'Captain' Takino, you interest me. But I understand your first officer is being kept under guard. Release her to your bridge at once."

"First officer, huh? You mean your blonde, nympho _spy_?—What have you done with Yomi?"

"Kagura," said the Sakaki double, "arm all weapons. Target the Ryouma."

Kaorin was typing desperately at the console. "_Twenty_ phasers banks are arming, Captain, they'll take out our shields in one hit!"

"Perhaps my wording was too subtle for your brain stem to comprehend," said Sakaki. "Release your first officer or be destroyed."

"Do your worst!"

"Captain," pleaded the Ryouma's Sakaki, "perhaps we shouldn't be rash…"

The turbolift opened a second time.

A self-satisfied, sugary voice spoke:

"That won't be necessary, Commander Sakaki."

Tomo spun around so fast that Osaka had to catch her.

The blonde Yomi stood by the door, both hands on her hips, dressed in her familiar Ryouma uniform.

Tomo glanced sideways at Kagura.

"Lieutenant?"

"Um, yeah?"

"There _was_ a reason I assigned you to watch her personally, wasn't there?"

"Ye-eah. My bad, sir."

"I mean, don't get wrong, I'm glad to be alive and all. I'm also kind of glad to know my judgment wasn't totally wonky before. Helps the old self-confidence, y'know.—Anyway: Security to bridge! Security—to—bridge. Still waiting on that security. Computer? Hello? Anytime now."

Yomi passed leisurely behind the tactical console, brushing the back of the Ensign's neck with her hand—he stiffened—remarking as if apropos of nothing:

"Last time we met, Captain, you accused me of being insufficiently interested in Federation protocol. Well, I did some reading up…and wouldn't you know? Interesting little fact. A Second Officer who cites fifty violations of Starfleet protocol by their Captain—incidents verified by the ship's computer—can automatically relieve them of command. Incidents such as running a holodeck simulation wherein you force a ranking Fleet Admiral to prance around in a revealing bathing suit while females mock him. Or using her rank pips as auxiliary poker chips. Or screwing her Operation Chief's head on backwards.—Chatter away all you want; you're locked out of the main computer. I could shut off all life support systems if I took it into my head…but, I'd prefer to be civilized about this."

"_You_—but…how could you have known about all that? Unless…a-aw! Yomi, you little _snitch_!"

The Yomi double gave a low melodic chuckle.

"You'll never get away with this! My crew will side with me!"

"Ah—but will they? You imply that I'm an agent of our new enemy. I would argue that I've shown a far more consistent concern than you for the wellbeing of this ship and its crew…Captain."

"B-but you're not _you_; you've gone _blonde_ all of a sudden!"

"Consult your crew. I think you'll find they consider the color of an officer's hair of secondary importance, next to your gross negligence and escapades."

Meanwhile the Sakaki double onscreen was silent; she hesitated, it would seem, to greet Yomi and make plain what everyone had guessed.

Tomo had gone pale. She was unrecognizable to her own crew; her customary zest for life was gone in an instant.

"Lt. Kagura?" she said.

Kagura nodded cautiously.

"Contact all decks. Have each section leader report…Ask them if they support this mutiny. Don't say anything more."

"Sir."

"Captain," said Sakaki, "you have my support. This woman is obviously not our First Officer Mizuhara."

Tomo said in a voice like a sigh: "Thanks, Sakaki-chan."

Kaorin stood. "I-I support you as well, Captain Takino, if Miss Sakaki does!—I mean I support you, that's all."

But the Security ensign was silent, looking pensive. Tomo turned to Osaka.

"My apologies, Miss Takino," said the android, blank of expression as always. "I am bound by my protocol to obey the ship's commanding officer—a rank currently held by Commander Mizuhara."

"_E tu_, Osaka?"

"Again, I apologize."

"Man. You androids can be a real pain in the butt sometimes."

Kagura: "With nonessential personnel evacuated, full complement is at forty percent…Seventy percent of decks reporting. Of nineteen team leaders, eleven support your captaincy."

"And the other eight?"

Kagura said nothing.

"You see," drawled Yomi, standing unnecessarily close to Kagura, "Challenging my authority might lead to an intra-ship civil war. Given the hazards of our situation—I hardly think the Ryouma can afford that."

"…You're right."

Sakaki and Kagura let out at the same time: "Captain!"

With her eyes lowered, Tomo addressed the blonde Yomi: "You've won this round. Congrats. But. Your friend over there," and she glared at the viewscreen, "admitted she'd underestimated us. I guess we did the same. So I'll say what she said—it won't happen again."

"What are you saying, Captain Takino! Let us defend this ship to the death…a glorious death! The two of us alone if nobody else!"

"Lt. Kagura, stand down."

Yomi looked down on Tomo from behind the Tactical console. Her manner now had none of the warmth, even if false, she had displayed in private. "Miss Takino," she said. "I must admit, nothing in my file on your delinquencies led me to believe you could be so reasonable." To the viewscreen: "Commander…Sakaki, isn't it? Please stand by. We are prepared to negotiate…in full accordance with Starfleet protocol."

"Excellent," said Sakaki, now all business. "Please prepare a _negotiating_ party—composed of this Miss Takino, and this Lieutenant 'Kagura.' The android is sensible; she may remain behind. And as for you…" her eyes focused on the Ryouma's Sakaki, who started back. "You make me ill. So weak. So much wasted potential. Stay behind, and share in the fate of your common crewmen. Tojo out."

The viewscreen went blank.

"Ensign," said Yomi, smiling irrepressibly, "lower shields to allow our former captain to beam away."

"Lowering shields," said the ensign, with a certain pained reluctance.

Tomo and Kagura stood together. The half-Klingon's expression was stoic; but Tomo, in her last moment, turned to Osaka and said:

"Lt.-Commander? I just want you to know. We're still friends, right? I mean…as far as I'm concerned."

Then the same green distortion as when Kurosawa had vanished; and they were gone.


	10. The B Team vs Evil Blonde Nympho

_Note_: Blink and you'll miss the Dilbert joke, Incanto out

* * *

_Acting Captain's Log, Koyomi Mizuhara, Stardate XX-OO_

_With the Ryouma at last under a firm hand, matters are proceeding delectably._

_That the "Federation" would appoint a dunce like Tomo to captaincy of their flagship is truly a testament to their flaccid, lackadaisical command structure._

_Naturally, I am a loyal officer of the Federation. Yet I have a few…improvements to suggest to its charter. I have full confidence that in time, my superiors will come to see things my way._

_That pesky "Counselor" Sakaki has been confined to her quarters, along with several other crew members who dared to attempt open mutiny. Our honored guest, Ambassador Tanizaki, has happily retired to her quarters with a healthy supply of Romulan ale. For the time being, I have restricted bridge access to myself and my chief Operations officer Osaka. She may have only a few combat protocols, but she has proven to be her reliable self. For the time being, the two of us may efficiently manage affairs while the witless cattle, I mean to say crewmembers, wander the corridors. Further measures may oh what on earth is going on Osaka, wait, computer terminate log entry_

Nearly deserted, the Ryouma's bridge had been enjoying a tranquility unknown since it had left port a week ago. This was interrupted by a high-pitched voice from the shipwide comm:

"Attention, all hands! P-please listen! Our acting captain is _not_ Commander Mizuhara! At least I don't think she is! If it turns out I'm mistaken, I really am very sorry! But may I be so bold as to suggest that we politely refuse to do anything she says! Which is not to say we should hurt her feelings, even if she is an evil alien duplicate! But Counselor Sakaki taught me the importance of being assertive! In conclusion well, I mean to say…l-long live the Federation!"

Yomi bolted from the captain's chair, shouting at Osaka who stood by the Tactical console:

"Who in the _hell_ was that?"

Osaka, imperturbably pressing buttons, replied:

"I believe the voice belonged to our chief engineer, Miss Chiyo Mihama."

"Computer! Give me the current location of Lt. Mihama."

"Lt. Mihama is in the Jeffries tubes between decks three and four, moving afterward."

"Chiyo…eh." Yomi brooded. "A commonplace little runt, if she's anything like our Chiyo. That is if she's anything like herself. Because of course, I'm completely familiar with all the officers under my command.—How did she get computer access? No one on this ship should be able to replicate a bowl of Galgian porridge without my permission."

"Analysis would suggest," said Osaka, "that she gained access to the manual override through the Jeffries tubes."

"Hmm. Would you be a dear and flood the Jeffries tubes with poisonous gas? We can send an Ensign in after a few hours to drag out her tiny corpse."

"I am afraid we have no poisonous gas dispensers onboard, Captain."

"Are you people seriously so backwards as all _that_?—What if a prisoner escapes?"

"Unfortunately sir, as you dispatched her to negotiate with the J.I.S. Tojo, Captain Takino will not be present for tonight's baked beans extravaganza in the mess hall."

"Bah, we'll have to flush her out ourselves. I was a fool to discount an engineer's resourcefulness."

"Perhaps, sir," said Osaka, who had not once looked up from the console and continued to press buttons for no apparent reason, "you should remain here, in the event that our situation with the Tojo develops."

"Shrewd thinking, Tin Can. But no…I'll deal with this myself. I look forward to sinking my teeth into that traitorous hide. She'll make a fine example for the crew.—Consider this your first lesson in the competency your former captain was so lax in teaching."

"On the contrary, sir. Ex-Captain Tomo educated me quite comprehensively. Among other things, she taught me many limericks. Would you like to hear one? 'There was a young maid from Odaiba, whose diet was too rich in fiber…'"

"That's _quite_ enough, Lt.-Commander. Now show me how to get into these damned Jeffries tubes. On my ship—I mean, on a sensibly constructed ship only the janitors ever crawl around in those things. Why do we even _have_ manual overrides and little tubes you can crawl through? It's as if the architect designed them with miniature traitors in mind."

"There is an access hatch at the rear of the conference room…"

"Good. If she's headed aft, I'll bet she's trying to get the long-range communicators back online. I'll start from this direction…you, take the turbolift straight to engineering and cut her off from the other end."

"Sir."

"And Osaka? If you catch her before I do…just wring her little neck. You do know how to choke a girl, don't you? Just put your hands together and _squeeze_."

"Yes, sir."

* * *

In the event, it was Osaka who encountered Chiyo first.

Yomi's guess had been accurate. Chiyo was one deck away from Communications, where earlier a bullet from Kobe's railgun had penetrated the ceiling and blown through a relay, when she encountered Osaka in the dim, cramped Jeffries tube and they froze, both on their hands and knees, as if they were playing farm animals.

"Hi, Chiyo-chan."

"Miss Osaka," said Chiyo, feebly. "How do you do?"

"I'm fine, thank you. This is awfully rude of me…but I am under orders to kill you by strangulation."

"I-I understand."

"If I may make a suggestion, you should start moving away. You are smaller than me and more maneuverable."

"But Miss Osaka…these tubes are too narrow to turn around in; and you can crawl forwards faster than I can crawl backwards. I'm afraid you could still catch me."

"That is a good point," said Osaka, and adopted an expression of deep Osakan thought. "However, I am easily distracted. You might try using a shiny object, or perhaps a verbal paradox that would temporarily overload my logic matrix. For example, you might say 'I only tell lies,' and then…"

"But Miss Osaka, I need you on my side—the _real_ you!"

"—or, in my attempt to subdue you, I might accidentally strike my head against a support beam. That sort of thing happens to me often. You might, then, access my main databank and disable my obedience protocols." And with—Chiyo could have sworn—something approaching real human emotion, she added: "Captain Takino truly is an inspiration. She taught me that doing a good job isn't always what's most important."

But after a moment's pause, Chiyo resolutely shook her head. "I can't go poking around in your databank, I might risk hurting you…" She drew in breath. "Miss Osaka…I didn't want it to come to this. B-but you leave me no choice!"

Without breaking eye contact, she opened the tool satchel that hung from her neck like a St. Bernard's miniature keg. She removed a sheet of blank, white paper that she had presumably brought along with just such a contingency in mind. She folded the sheet lengthwise in thirds, then again; until she had made a handsome paper fan.

Then shutting her eyes, she gave a shout that was more of a whimper—"_Nandeyanen_!"—and struck Osaka lightly between the eyes.

The android twitched; a disturbing grinding noise emanated from her cranium; two sparks drifted out of her left ear.

"M-miss Osaka, are you alright!"

Another moment before she managed to collect herself: "Affirmative, Chiyo-chan…I am now operating within acceptable parameters." Then, in her customary sweet tone: "I was behaving rather foolishly, wasn't I?"

Chiyo was gasping with relief. "I can't believe that actually worked!"

"It certainly was prescient of the Captain to prioritize my stand-up comedy protocol, even over my fundamental logic drive."

"I admit," said Chiyo fervently, "I had my doubts about Miss Takino at first, but she has shown a great deal of foresight. And now she's a captive on the enemy ship! Miss Osaka, we've got to regain control quickly so we can help her!"

"I'm a step ahead of ya, Chiyo-chan. I have already neutralized the enemy threat aboard the Ryouma."

"You have…? But I thought you were bound to obey Evil Miss Yomi's orders."

"I believe I managed to neutralize her by obeying her orders."

Just then, something happened that seemed to prove the contrary. An awesome, booming voice filled the Jeffries tube, so amplified by the yards of ringing metal that it might have come from any direction. Chiyo on instinct clung to Osaka's shoulders.

"_Chi-yo_! You can't escape me! I'll grind up your bones to make gelatin!"

"She doesn't _sound_ especially neutralized," said Chiyo in a terrified whisper; that, unfortunately, carried.

"Don't think I can't hear you down there! Come crawling to me, and perhaps I'll let you off with a good spanking like the brat you are. But if you make me come after you, I'll kill you for sure!"

Chiyo mouthed to Osaka: _What should we do?_

Solemnly Osaka whispered back: "_I am unable to read lips_."

"I mean it!" came Yomi's unearthly voice. "I'm coming to get you! I'll count to ten! Ten!—Nine!—Eight…!"

Judging that the voice was emanating from behind her, and with Osaka giving no sign of movement, Chiyo had no choice but to remain huddled miserably with the prickling hair on the back of her neck.

"Seven…six…five…!"

"Miss Osaka, I really think we should esca-ape!"

"If my theory is correct, I think we will be safe here."

"I'm getting _really_ mad now!—Four! Three! Two!...Two. I don't hear you fleeing in terror, you hateful midget. Prepare to face my wrath!"

Chiyo flattened herself against the grating and covered her head. A minute passed. Then two. No further sound.

Osaka was nodding silently to herself.

"Miss Yomi?" Chiyo said tentatively. "Is…is something the matter?"

"What?—No, of course not. I'm a second away from rending you limb from—_oof_ limb."

"Miss Yomi, did you just say _oof_?"

"I most certainly did not!"

Turning her head—there was certainly no murderous Yomi bearing down on her—Chiyo called: "Miss Yomi…you can't pursue me, can you?"

"Wh-what are you talking about!"

"In your alternate universe, you never went on that diet, or accepted Counselor Sakaki's hunger suppression therapy…did you?"

What followed was a scream so awful that the grating physically rattled; and Chiyo seized Osaka again. But when it ceased there was still no sound of pursuit. Chiyo looked at Osaka and nodded.

* * *

Some ten minutes later, arriving at the conference room, they were greeted by the expected sight. The blonde Yomi's posterior, and her uselessly flailing legs, hung out of the access hatch halfway up the rear wall, and the room was full of her muffled curses. Chiyo and Osaka stood there for a moment, awkwardly.

"This…situation certainly resolved more smoothly than I had expected," said Chiyo, scratching one arm.

Osaka nodded again.

"What…what should we do? We can't just…_leave_ her there."

"Lt. Mihama, I have an idea," said the android.

With a grave girlish air she went and retrieved Tomo's Penalty Box, full of its rustling Ration Cards, from under the conference table. She crossed the room and placed it underneath the wall console, not far from Yomi's hindquarters. Then she carefully inputted a sequence of words into the console.

Regarding it, Chiyo rubbed her chin. Finally she nodded slowly, as if on reflection, this was their only course of action.

"Alright," she said, "let's go find Miss Sakaki. There's no time to lose."

So they went out; followed by Yomi's barely comprehensible howl: "Cowards! Come closer and I'll give you _such_ a kick!"

The wall console read:

_Spank the Evil Alien Yomi:_

_Put a Ration Card in the Honesty Box_

_

* * *

_

No rational being, to be sure, takes well to imprisonment; but certain species find it more painful than death. Among these are Klingons.

Kagura paced the cell—no larger than a latrine aboard the Ryouma—looking very much a captive animal. She was unable to remain still, though she had already exhausted her strength in charging the forcefield—to the considerable amusement of her Romulan and human guards.

The two guards lounged intermittently on metal half-stools projecting from the far wall. They had been there unrelieved for hours, and only cared to relieve the tedium by taunting Kagura. The Romulan had hit on an ingenious method by bringing in her confiscated bat'leth; which at the present moment, he was swinging about his head like a fan dancer, accompanied by high kicks, and a vulgar song from the gaunt pale-faced human.

Kagura had been steadfastly ignoring them; but patience was not a trait for which Klingons, even half-Klingons, were known. Now she came to a stop and faced them, breathing slowly and deliberately through her nostrils.

"My, I think she's angry," said the human.

"I do believe you are correct."

"Doesn't she appreciate my singing voice?"

"You," said Kagura, in a low growl that would have petrified anyone not on the other side of an impassible forcefield, "have no honor."

The human clapped one hand on his chest; and made a show of flopping around.

"No honor!—I've been mortally wounded! Bury me, Casca!"

Casca, the Romulan, quipped: "Such an unexpected accusation from a Klingon."

"Interesting," said the human, stroking his chin, "how little honor is worth, next to the power of guns, metal walls and forcefields."

Kagura stood so close to the forcefield that a faint spacial distortion showed around the tip of her nose.

"That's your mistake," she said. "You think honor is something confined to the field of battle."

"And you," said Casca, stepping closer, "don't understand anything except the field of battle.—You filthy Klingon bitch."

The human placed a cautioning hand on his shoulder: "Alright, perhaps that is enough. _Our_ Kagura would have our hides if she burst in now and heard that…"

Casca shrugged him off. "There's a lot of things I've wanted to say to 'our' Kagura. How convenient that I finally have the opportunity.—This is what comes of your philosophy, Klingon; caged, castrated by your intellectual superiors!"

With a sudden remarkable control Kagura shot back: "Life is a battlefield. If you don't keep your wits about you…even now…you might miss the obvious."

Now Casca was standing almost as close to the forcefield; and his eyes gleamed.

"Is that so? Such as what, praytell?"

Then all at once Kagura smiled.

"Such as a Vulcan sneaking up behind you to nerve-pinch you."

Casca's mouth opened to retort—but he never had the chance. The next moment, Yomi's fingers found the nerve in his left shoulder, while the weakened Ambassador Kurosawa still managed to overpower the human before he could let out a whimper.

It was an act of great self-control on Kagura's part that she confined herself to a few barks of laughter.

"Commander Mizuhara! It is really _you_—after all!"

"Sit tight, Kagura, you'll be free in a nanosec," said Yomi as she applied herself to the control panel.

"A nanosecond may be all we have," said the Ambassador. "Security has been on high alert ever since _my_ escape. Our activities cannot go unnoticed much longer."

"And you, you must be the _real_ Ambassador Kurosawa! Finally things are startin' to make sense. Now can we battle the enemy or what?"

"Not just yet," said Yomi, "we need to get our bearings first," but then the forcefield shut off. "Hey n-no hugs, repeat, _no_ hugs—especially no Klingon hugs! I-I thought I made it clear at the bridge crew orientation I was uncomfortable with physical contact!"

"Ah, it's good to see you again! Onward—for glory!"

"No! No glory! Shut up and listen to the Ambassador's story!" Dusting herself off, and adjusting her spectacles, Yomi added with a touch of humor: "Besides, this miser has hardly told me a thing about what's going on because she didn't want to repeat herself."

"It is only logical to repeat the story as few times as possible," said Kurosawa, archly. "In any case, I will make it brief. I was abducted several weeks ago and brought to this ship; as was Commander Mizuhara. This crew seems to have originated in a parallel universe of sorts, similar, but in many ways diametrically opposed to, our own. With Yomi's correspondent aboard the Ryouma—"

"I knew it!" said Kagura.

"—this ship is commanded by their Sakaki, a highly dangerous, full telepath. During her…" and she paused momentarily and shivered, "interrogations of me, Sakaki often made reference to a 'powerful being' who had transported them across the dimensional barrier."

Unable to restrain herself, Yomi broke in: "But Ambassador, won't you just tell us _where_ this dimensional rift is located? Or how big it is?"

Kurosawa shook her head.

"You misunderstand. But perhaps Commander Sakaki wanted you to. The truth is—as I am becoming increasingly certain—there _is_ no dimensional rift. This ship, the Tojo, was simply transported between dimensions. We are in _our_ dimension as we speak, likely not far from the Ryouma.—Sakaki puts up a hard front, it's true. But in fact, she's frightened. She has no way of contacting her Empire, doesn't know how to return, or even how to contact this enigmatic 'powerful being'—assuming that it even exists."

Kagura was listened with mouth agape.

"No way. This is wild.—But then, it shouldn't be too hard to stop her…right?"

Yomi, for whom all of this was, of course, just as much a revelation, was looking grim.

"I wouldn't be so sure about that," she said.

"Huh?"

"As a Klingon," said Yomi, "you should know best of all. When is a fighting dog most dangerous?"

And comprehension slowly dawned in Kagura's eyes as she whispered her reply:

"When it's cornered."


	11. On Counting

The last thing Tomo remembered was a woman's face: dark, fine-featured, shockingly beautiful. While in Yomi's case, the duplicate's seedy confidence produced an ugly impression, it was hard to believe the two Sakakis were physically identical, so much did the beauty of one eclipse the other. The thought had flashed through Tomo's mind that her Sakaki, in her shyness, seeming uncomfortable in her own body, was afraid of becoming this woman. Then this Sakaki drew a phaser and summarily fired. In the split second before losing consciousness, Tomo had assumed this was it; and only regretted not going down fighting Kobe, or for that matter, anything at least marginally cooler than this.

Apparently the phaser had been set to stun.

She was sitting reclined, and when she tried to move, metal bars cut across both her wrists, her waist and her knees. Above her—like at the hated dentist's—was a piercing white light; or to be exact, five small lights ranged across her vision. The room had a sterile, faintly metallic smell.

She heard footsteps and was somehow sure it was Sakaki. She tried to raise her head, but found it difficult with the rest of her body strapped so firmly to the chair.

"Okay," she said quickly, "I re-eally hope this isn't what it looks like, because it looks like what I saw when I walked into Fleet Admiral Kimura's office for the briefing and he had to shut off the vid-player real quick." Then she shuddered and added: "What is _with_ you people?"

Sakaki didn't bother replying. Tomo heard her pass behind the chair. Then she came into view, a dark silhouette under the lights. She looked supernaturally tall like something out of a nightmare.

"Don't get the wrong idea," she said. "I don't take any kind of sadistic pleasure in this. Well…it would be fair to say I enjoy a job well done. But this, I've done a thousand times, and I'd prefer to dispense with the boring part quickly."

Tomo realized there must be a second chair, or stool in front of her, just below her line of sight. Sakaki sat down so that only her darkened face remained pulling at the edge of her vision. It made Tomo's head ache.

"You have a resilient mind," came the cold voice. "Most people are walking masses of fear, insecurity and regret. Picking them apart is like picking the wings off a Betazed wasp. But while my agent reported you as an incompetent buffoon…I appreciate why you were tapped for command.

"Now. Let's be frank with each other. I have a request; that you will make a recording, for transmission to your commanding officer, advising that your Federation lay down its arms and negotiate with us as the weaker power. I doubt you'll accede to my request. Pain, of one sort or another, will be necessary to convince you. Does that sound about right?"

"You know what I _really_ hate?" said Tomo. "I have this crippling fear of not being tied to a chair. And weapons—can't stand 'em. If you let me go and put a phaser in my hand, I bet I'd crack right away…"

"—and you'll prattle on in some attempt to prove," Sakaki went on, "as if to an invisible audience, how tough you are and that you aren't afraid me. Well, there will be pain if it comes to that. Know that your simpler thoughts are an unclouded pond to me. Anyone could tell you're terrified of blood, and hate physical pain. The thought of the simplest tortures—oh, say, the splinter under the fingernail—makes your stomach clench up. Isn't that right?"

Tomo swallowed hard, and said nothing.

"However…those tactics are unsavory. We are both rational people. Perhaps we can reach an understanding."

"Does that mean, like, 'all you creepy people leave our space right now and never come back?' Cause if so, I'm all for that."

"I'm afraid that won't be possible.—As an intelligent woman like yourself must have guessed, we come from a world that resembles yours to a startling degree. Except that, rather than blindly traipsing around the galaxy, we have devoted ourselves to conquest. Our numbers must be roughly equal. But each of our ships carries many times the armament of yours. Now, our war fleet is poised to invade, and your Federation stands a Provian ice cube's chance on Kelsor Two.—That's the one with all the lava fissures."

"Yeah, thanks, I got that."

"You will forgive our substitution tricks; but we couldn't be certain we were dealing with a proper civilization. Now I understand—that you are even in need of our _help_. Imagine how efficient…how powerful our two Japans could be in tandem; like two suns in the sky. Nothing in all the compound multiverse would be beyond our reach."

"Okay. I get that. But I got one question."

"By all means…ask."

"Why do you got to invade? I mean, can't we just, y'know…be friends?"

It was still impossible to see—and the throbbing in her head was worse, and the steady light appeared to be flickering—but she thought Sakaki smiled.

"This is the difference in our philosophy. Your people, as I understand it—and I must thank you for the glimpse into your own mind, which has taught me a great deal—value freedom above all else. My people value peace."

"Oh—come on, you don't think I'm gonna buy…"

"Peace," Sakaki pressed on imperturbably, "is the single thought behind every action we take. Yes, in the short term that means bloodshed; and we appoint officers with a talent, even an enjoyment of such. That is only rational. But only when all the universe is united under a single banner will all conflict cease. Do you mean to tell me your Federation is in a state of eternal peace?"

"Well…ye-eah basically. Okay, when we bumped into you guys, we were on our way to mediate a border dispute. But hey, wait, that space anomaly must have _been_ you guys; so that's your fault! If not for you, the Romulans and Vulcans would just barely manage to suppress their mutual hatred and we could all get along."

"I see.—On which subject, other races have the right idea. The Romulans and the Klingons, for example, both value strength. But the Klingons enjoy conflict for its own sake—a barbaric mindset—and the Romulans, with their provincial xenophobia, never would have amounted to anything without our help. Only we understand the urgent necessity of uniting everybody.

"Reality is…what it is. It stands to reason there must be one correct way of living. Our divine task is to bring all peoples to this realization…Since the days of this vessel's namesake, men and women have been patiently laying down their lives for that cause. I intend to make sure those sacrifices were not in vain."

"Dang," said Tomo, and tried with all her strength to focus her eyes on Sakaki; though she did not have the sense they were looking at each other. "You really mean it…don't you? You aren't just messing with me. You really are that nuts."

Then she heard Sakaki sigh. It was a dreadful lingering noise, reverberating around the metal-walled room, like a ghost.

"Perhaps we can't see eye to eye on this issue," she said, "just yet. Let's change the subject. Tell me, Captain Takino…how many lights do you see in front of you?"

Tomo blinked.

"Four," she said.

A lengthy pause.

"Are you sure about that? Try twisting your head a bit, maybe one's off to the side."

"Nope. Still seeing four."

"Damnit, that's now how this works. You say there's five, and I try to convince you there's only four, and then I break your will."

"Oh is that what we were doing? We can, like, start over if…"

"Silence!" Sakaki stood again; and now there were indeed four lights, as one of them vanished to form a dark corona around her head. "I can see this won't be easy. But you can't just invent whatever you like. Everyone is subject to the _same_ reality, and I intend to teach you that lesson. Now how many lights do you see?"

"Four!—Now free my right arm so I can give you the pink-eye!"

"Wrong answer." Now Sakaki removed an object from a pocket of her high-collared uniform; a dull silvery cylinder, slightly bigger than a stylus. "If you insist on behaving like a child, I'll treat you like one. Now, count along with me." She pointed at the rightmost light. "One…"

"One."

"Two…"

"Two."

"Three…"

"Three."

"Four…"

"Four."

"Five."

"Four!"

Sakaki squeezed the cylinder and a burning filament of red light, as thin as a human hair, shone benignly from one end.

"Oh what are you gonna do now, laser-pointer me to de—a-a-augh!"

The beam lashed across Tomo's chest; and though there was no sound, nothing damaged, a wave of agony washed up and down her body.

"Didn't your people invent the laser whip? That was the weakest setting.—This isn't. Now let's try this again. How—many lights—do you see?"

In truth, through her involuntary tears, Tomo only saw one white blur.

"Th-that's gonna cost you," she choked out, "now I only see _three_ ligh—_ow_-ow-ow!"

"I can read your thoughts; I know your clowning is an act! It's time to stop living in your childish little world and face facts!

"It's n-not an act…I really am this dumb. Ow! Okay stop already, please, y-you made your point…_Ow_! Mommy! Yomi…Yomi, help!"

"Your first officer is quite content under _my_ command. She finally has the respect she's always deserved."

"That's a lie, Yomi would n-never…!"

"As for the rest of your bridge crew, I've given orders for their summary execution. They are of no use to me. If you cooperate…it may not be too late to save one or two."

"You're lying, I don't believe a word of it!"

"Perhaps. But you can't be sure. I, on the other hand, can see you'd do anything to save one of your friends. Paralyzed by compassion—no wonder you were never a match for me."

Sakaki squeezed the cylinder again, and it began to emit a high-pitched buzzing.

"I'm running out of patience. The longer this goes on, the fewer words and the more pain will be involved."

"You can hurt me," said Tomo, between deep ragged breaths, "you can mess with my head…you can even threaten my crew…but you can't take away…my right to do what I want, be as weird as I want, and say whatever random things I want! That's the Federation! And if your _reality_ means running lasers through people I don't want any part of it! _No one from my world could ever live in yours_! That's right, I said it; you live in a stupid world for losers!"

Sakaki squeezed the cylinder one more time. Now it visibly shuddered in her hand; and the beam, of a blinding intensity, illuminated half her pitiless face.

"As you wish," she said. "From now on, there will be only pain."

But then—as if (and later, she would claim this was the case) Tomo's force of will had physically manifested—the room shook all around them. Sakaki caught herself on the edge of the chair; her communicator sounded.

"Bridge, Kagura, report!"

"Commander, we are taking fire. Shields at eighty percent and holding."

Now Sakaki too was breathing heavily, and as she leaned over Tomo, a bead of sweat showed on her right temple. She whispered:

"Allow me to confide something in you…although it's hardly necessary. Our Yomi is a stooge. I keep her in the captain's chair as a precaution against assassination—and I suspect your Yomi has much the same attitude. I did at least believe she was competent…but it would seem your crew has regained control of your ship. Now they've made the rational choice, and decided to sacrifice your life and the half-Klingon's for the greater good."

"Th-that's not possible. I've carefully trained my crew never to do anything that makes a lick of sense."

"Be that as it may.—Bridge! We have no choice. Target all weapons on the Ryouma and keep firing until there's nothing left. I'm on my way."

"Sir."

"Wait!" yelled Tomo, but Sakaki didn't even look back. "You win! I'll make the transmission!"

"You should have taken my offer while you had the chance," Sakaki said, a moment before the door slid shut.

"H-hey…you're not just gonna leave me strapped to this thing. Well I guess you are evil so it's not that surprising. How about just freeing one arm? So I can like scratch my nose if I have to? You're, uh, long gone aren't you. Coward! Run away from me, will you!—Oof, ugh, these restrains are…really pretty sturdy. Well…y-your boobs aren't as big as the real Sakaki's! Oh yeah, and one more thing…_there—are—four—lights_!"

* * *

Note:_ Like I said earlier, I don't know how familiar y'all are with Star Trek:TNG; but _Chain of Command _is one of the two episodes in all of Star Trek I would recommend anyone watch, regardless of their familiarity. The other is Deep Space Nine's _Duet,_ Incanto out_


End file.
